


(Un)Becoming

by NightRoseBud



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21678259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightRoseBud/pseuds/NightRoseBud
Summary: What if Jim was not the only one to see that something had changed in the episode "Unbecoming"? What if other characters could catch glimpses of their other lives?
Relationships: Barbara Lake/Walter Strickler | Stricklander, Toby Domzalski & Jim Lake Jr.
Comments: 42
Kudos: 123





	1. Wingman

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [almost (you) me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17798666) by [Ler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ler/pseuds/Ler). 



> Completely inspired by Ler's fic "almost (you) me." Highly recommend you give it a read if you have not already.

Toby is sure that his house is haunted.

Okay, maybe like 99.99% certain that it is haunted. Or possessed. He's not sure of the terminology.

There are... _noises_ in his bedroom. Chattering and singing and humming and a deep voice that sounds like a hellish demon talking, but it _seems_ nice. Like it laughs and talks about eating and playing video games. It would be nice to have a roommate that liked that stuff. If it wasn't a disembodied voice that Toby heard in the middle of the night with no warning.

He wanted to talk to Jimbo about it. But he had been the one that started the whole _Twilight Zone_ vibe in the first place. Out of the blue a few weeks ago, he had changed. It was subtle. He came out of his house, looking concerned. Toby was concerned that Jim didn't have the lunch he promised.

"Maybe it's for the best. I am on a diet," Toby said sadly, rubbing his amble stomach.

"You've been on a diet for 14 years, Tobes," Jim exclaimed, the look of anxiety deepening on his face. 

"Long-term goals. My body's still changing," he replied, picking up his bike. Jim was standing there, mouthing the words as Toby said them. Was he getting too predictable?

"So, you don't know that I'm a Trollhunter?" Jim asked.

Toby liked to think he was a good friend. He and Jim had known each other for a decade now. But Trollhunter? What was that? Some kinda kid's show? Sounded weird, even for Jim. He gave the taller teen a worried look.

"Okay. You really gotta stop skipping breakfast, Jimbo. It's the most important meal of the day. Come on, we're gonna be late for school!" And with that, Toby started to pedal away. "Let's take the canals," he said with a sigh. It was Jimbo's favorite route when they were late.

Only he was shocked when he heard Jim shout. "Take the long way!" Well, okay. Toby would choose the long way over the terrifying canals any day. "Your call," he replied, changing course.

And when they were riding over the bridge and Toby was pumping his legs as fast as he could, it was weird that Jim seemed to slow down even as the final bell rang. Jim was looking into the canal like there was something that caught his eye. Toby just saw a pile of stones. He thought he heard Jim say something.

"Did you say something?" he called back. "Nope," Jim replied with a small smile.

Wow, he was being weird.

* * *

The weirdness didn't stop at school. If anything, it got worse.

In History, Jim kept talking about how everything was the same but not the same. And then Jim suggested that they meet up with Claire to talk about it.

Claire Nuñez.

Social-butterfly Claire. Straight-A student Claire. Most likely to be Spring Fling Queen Claire. Meet up with her. Like they were friends.

HA!

Now he was positive. Jim was nuts. Toby should have him committed.

"Claire? Like 'secret crush' Claire?" He said in a fierce whisper. "You taking crazy pills?! She barely knows you exist."

Unluckily (or luckily, Toby wasn't sure which) their conversation was noticed by Mr. Strickler, who was capping his pen. "Jim, would you agree with Herodotus-"

"Strickler!" Jim nearly shouted, and Toby felt his stomach drop. Okay, Jim never acted like that with a teacher. Especially with his favorite teacher. Like, Strickler was someone Jim looked up to. Now he was acting... Toby didn't even know how to describe it. He was acting like Strickler was someone he didn't trust.

At least Strickler shared in Toby's feeling of WTFness if the shocked look on his face as Jim stammered out a reply was anything to go by.

The bell rang, and the whole class gathered their stuff. Strickler asked for Jim to stay behind, and Toby beat a hasty retreat to the hallway, waiting outside of the door. Now he was getting seriously worried. Maybe he should talk to Dr. L? Wasn't major personality changes something to watch out for? Did he bump his head? Food poisoning? Aliens? Nah, not aliens. That was too far fetched.

"No! Nononononoooo. Stay away from my mom!" Toby heard Jim say, and Jim stalked out into the hallway. Toby rushed after his longtime friend. He was just barely able to hear Jim as he muttered darkly, "Not letting that asshole near mom this time."

Okay, so maybe aliens were not off the table yet.

* * *

Toby was not able to worry about Jimbo for long, though, because the hell known as Gym class started. He was hanging upside-down from a rope being berated by Coach Lawerence, so the blood rushing to his head made it hard to keep track of his scrambled-brain friend. Toby did see Jimbo walk over to Claire and her friends. Again, what made Jim think he could just talk to her like that? Like, Claire was A-level royalty in the high school hierarchy. He and Jim were D-level. At best. 

Well, Claire and her friends moved off in disgust, after Jim made finger guns at her. Finger guns! Now they got knocked down to F-level status for sure.

Whatever Jim tried to talk about with Claire fired him up even more. He started going on about being a Trollhunter. Good trolls (four arms and six eyes, yeah right), evil trolls (Gumm-Gumms? What the hell Jim?), changelings (Wait, Mr. Strickler was a changeling? Why would a stone-flesh creature teach in _high school_ of all things?), a sword made of daylight. Okay, was Jim a LARPer and was just blurring the lines of make-believe and reality? Didn't that happen to some kids with _Dungeons & Dragons_ a few decades ago?

Jim was so engrossed in his fantasy of trolls and magic amulets he didn't even notice when Steve gave Toby a black eye. Some friend.

"Distract me from the pain. Tell me again. I have a Warhammer?" Toby sighed as they walked home. If Jim was going to have some kind of mental break, then Toby would humor him if it made Toby look good.

"And you're a duke," Jim replied. Okay, _that_ was it. Toby was able to believe a lot of things, but that he was in a tentative relationship with Darci Scott, who happened to be the school mascot and Spring Fling Queen was pushing his suspension of disbelief. "Ha! And I thought I had a big imagination," Toby scoffed.

Oh, Toby got it. He finally figured out what was happening. Jimbo wanted to feel important. Feel like he was a hero. "Look, Jimbo, we're nobodies. But that's okay."

Jim looked upset. "It's not imagin-" Jim gasped. He rushed to the side of the bridge where the pile of rocks was. "Yes! I can prove it! Tobes. Tobes come here." Toby sighed and carefully put his bike down on the grass as Jim slid down the embankment. Jim started to search in the pile as Toby made his way down slowly. He could hear Jim talking underneath his breath as he got closer. "Where'd it go?" he asked in frustration.

Toby's patience was starting to run out. No lunch, the yelling at Mr. Strickler, the odd familiarity with Claire, mother freakin' _trolls_. Now he was here in this canal looking at a pile of freakin' rocks. He liked geology, true, but they weren't even exciting rocks, let alone living ones. "You wanted to show me a pile of rocks." He tried not to sound annoyed, but the sentence came out as a statement and not a question.

"No, Tobes, the Amulet. It was right here." Jim sighed. "Maybe someone else was chosen." And with that statement, Toby was DONE.

"Well, Jim, this has been memorable," Toby said, shrugging. "And since _somebody_ forgot my lunch today, I'm going home to eat." He turned his back on Jim even as Jim held his arms out in despair. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said as he climbed. As he grabbed his bike, he saw Jim sinking to his knees in front of the pile again. He loved Jim. He did. But this was just too much.

Mother freakin' trolls.

* * *

Toby didn't stay mad at Jim for long. Truth be told, he never really could stay mad at Jim for long. Jim seemed to realize that Toby did not want to hear about trolls and magical armor and dropped it altogether. They didn't speak of it again.

Jim went back to normal. True, there were some weird points. Jim refused to be around Mr. Strickler when he would spend a free period in Strickler's office at least once a week before. Hearing that Steve would be Romeo struck Jim for some odd reason. Steve sucked big time, but Toby never thought Jim cared about the drama club that much. Jim started acing tests and pop quizzes. And somehow he convinced his mom to get him a Vespa for his 16th birthday. But otherwise, he was good ole Jimbo. Cooking, cleaning, playing video games, pining over Claire. The works.

But then, the voices started in Toby's bedroom.

The first one appeared (materialized?) a week and a half after Jim's mental breakdown. Toby could hear a chattering coming from his grandmother's old dollhouse. And, sometimes, singing? It had no lyrics, but it was good, if creepy. He looked for speakers in the dollhouse, checked to see if it was Nana's TV, tried to stuff his ears with cotton, but it continued. Then his old Sally-Go-Back doll started moving around the dollhouse on its own. He thought it was Nana, but she said it wasn't her. It was unsettling, to say the least.

After a visit to the museum, where Jim was jumpier than a cat in a rocking chair store, Toby heard the second voice. He was chilling in his room when a deep voice said: "Must find den."

Toby yelped and dropped the candy bar he had been eating while diving under the covers of his bed. He waited several minutes before peeking out. "Hello?" he called out. "W-what den are you looking for?" Was it a ghost looking for closure? That is what they did, right?

"Toby-pie! I don't recognize that voice! Who is that?" Nana called out, making him jump again.

"Nothing Nana! Binge-watch another show and keep the cats inside!" He paused. Why did he say that, what did the cats have to do with anything?

There were no more voices that night, but it didn't stop Toby from sleeping with the lights on.

* * *

The deep voice didn't come back until a week later. "Blood magic?" it asked in a worried tone before angry chattering erupted from the dollhouse. Toby just froze with his eyes wide. Were, were the ghosts fighting? 

"H-hello?" he called out. "Do you need anything?" There was silence for several minutes, but then it was growling and yelling in front of Toby's TV. Whatever it was, it sounded _pissed_. Toby ran from his room, heart in his throat, and stopped at the foot of the stairs, panting. What in the world was _that_? He waited almost a full hour, stress eating from the fridge, before venturing back upstairs. The growling had stopped, but the voices had not.

"You gotta ask for tips, wingman! Ask for tips!" Toby dimly heard his voice say. The creature chuckled. "Sushi." Toby noped right out of there and spent the night on the couch. Apparently, Jim's crazy was contagious.

* * *

Usually, Toby would go to Jim with the news of disembodied voices in his room, but considering Jim's apparent fragile mental state, he hesitated. Instead, while Jim celebrated his birthday riding on his brand-new, cherry red Vespa around town, Toby did the one thing he thought would help, but he loathed to do.

He went to the library.

Toby never was big on reading (if it was good enough, they made a movie about it), but his disgust of the library was the sole responsibility of one librarian. Ms. Mathers. Old, crusty, smelly Ms. Mathers. She looked ancient, and Toby only hoped that she would die soon. Unless she was stealing the souls of children to extend her own life, he wouldn't put it past her.

She was at the main desk when he walked in. She glared at him as he entered, and he tried sticking a smile on his face that made his cheeks hurt. She lifted a bony finger to her lips and shushed him. Lady, I didn't even freakin' _say_ anything. He rushed to the individual computer used for the library's catalog.

Ghosts. Demons. Spirits. Possession. He found enough books that they formed a stack taller than him. They pretty much all said the same thing:

_Ghosts_ were human spirits. Usually died with strong emotions. Sometimes nasty and sometimes nice. They could be aware they were dead or just replaying their last moments over and over. They haunted one place. They could move things. It got cold when they were around.

_Demons_ were inhuman spirits. Never alive. Generally nasty. They could haunt a place but could also haunt people and objects. They could move things. It got cold when they were around.

So the voice was a demon? It was moving the doll around that was for sure. But it hadn't touch Toby. And why did Toby hear his own voice? The demon trying to fool him? There was no record of a murder in his house that Toby could find. But they had only been in the house for ten years. Arcadia was a weird place; everyone knew that. People had a bad habit of disappearing at an alarming rate. Or at least they did if Eli was to be believed.

Toby started digging into how he would talk to the spirit and went to the check-out counter with three books. He kept the fake grin on his face as Ms. Mathers made a point to look at the stack he had left behind. "School project," he lied, nervously laughing as she put the due date down for him. She handed the books to him but would not let go of them. "Make sure not to eat them, Tubby."

Oh yeah, soul-sucking vampire, absolutely. He tugged the books out of her bony grip and hurried out of the library.

* * *

Just one stop at the toy store on the way home, and he was ready to call a demon. 

"Need to be 18 to vote, 21 to drink, but only 8 to summon the dark forces," he joked, looking down at the Ouija board he bought at the toy store.

He arranged five candles in the shape of a star on his bedroom floor (four were from his Nana's emergency earthquake kit, one was a scanted candle, Baked Cupcake) and placed himself and the board in the middle. All the books agreed that he had to make sure he was protected before using the board. Using the board without protection would invite bigger trouble.

"Um, so, if there are any evil spirits here, you need to leave," he loudly proclaimed. He was glad Nana was out at one of her friend's house, he didn't want her disturbing the vibe. "Good spirits, you stay. I need answers." That should do it. He paused and then placed his fingers on the planchette.

He took a deep breath. "Voice that I keep hearing, what do you want?" he asked in a loud and grave voice. He glared at the planchette and waited for it to do something. Nothing. "Spirit? Do you need anything?" Nothing from the planchette. "Spirit?" A less confident voice. "Please?"

He sighed. "Maybe I'm doing this wrong," he said in a defeated voice. "What is your name?"

The planchette did nothing for several moments, but suddenly three little blue balls of light appeared from the planchette. They floated around his room for a minute, making Toby whine apprehensively. They came back to the planchette and disappeared. Toby yelped when he felt it move to the "W." It jerked to the "I" and "N," and he let go, leaping back, but the planchette kept going. G, M, A, and N again.

He sat on his bedroom floor, panting, trying to process what just happened. It finally hit him after a minute. "Wingman?" he asked. What kind of name was that?

The balls appeared again, but they went straight to the TV. It glowed blue for a moment, but otherwise, nothing happened. He got up and tentatively went to his TV, using a fingernail to tap on the glass. There was nothing wrong with it that he could see. Actually, something _was_ wrong. He could see the room reflected on the TV's screen, but his reflection was not.

Before he could react, he saw the door to his room open on the TV screen. He glanced behind himself in fear, but his door was still closed. When he looked back at the screen, he saw himself walking into the room. But he wasn't the only thing moving through the door. A big, hulking _creature_ was behind the reflection of himself, and Toby's jaw dropped as he saw it squeeze itself through his door. Reflection Toby was not only aware he was being followed but smiled at the monster and threw a video cassette in the air. The monster caught it and ate it and swallowed and licked its lips, and grinned.

Toby looked behind himself again, but there was nothing but his ordinary room. Back on the TV screen, Reflection Toby was sitting on the bed, kicking his feet as he smiled and talked to the creature. The creature responded and grinned at Reflection Toby. Were they friends? Why would he be friends with something that could eat him?

Reflection Toby hopped off the bed and walked towards the TV, grabbing a controller and handing it to the monster. The monster settled down on the floor; it's giant hand dwarfing the controller. Reflection Toby looked at the screen, reaching for the power button. He paused suddenly and squinted at the screen. Toby realized that Reflection Toby was probably seeing him and his shocked expression. Reflection Toby tapped on the screen, much like Toby had done a few moments ago.

Toby saw Reflection Toby turn to the creature, opening his mouth like he was going to ask a question. At that point, Toby had had enough, and he moved the TV so that it pointed in the other direction. Nope. Nope. That was enough of that. That was not what he had signed up for. Spirits he could kinda believe. But that? That was was a whole new level of weird.

When Nana got home that night, she didn't question why he was sleeping on the couch. Truth be told, Toby didn't think he could sleep in his room ever again.

* * *

After the _Romeo and Juliet_ play, Jim got weird again. He seemed depressed and withdrawn. If Toby had been sleeping a little better, he might have asked what was going on. But sleeping on the couch every night for over a week was making him tired. Although, it was while he was getting ready to go to sleep one night that he happened to look over to the Lake residence and notice his longtime friend sitting on the roof. He debated whether to join him or not. _Screw it_. If Toby was gonna die, better with his best friend on a roof than alone on the ground.

Toby crossed the cul-de-sac and found the ladder on the side of the house. They had climbed to the roof a couple of times as kids, their only act of rebellion. Toby remembered being scared but feeling a rush of adrenaline that made it worth it. Now he just felt the fear. He went up anyway, and by the time he made it to the top, he was panting. He slowly crawled his way to Jim hugging the roof for dear life. By the time he made it to Jim's side, Jim had a small, sad smile on his face.

"Hey Jimbo," said Toby, trying to find a way to sit on the roof safely while being comfortable. How the hell did they do this as kids? How did they not _die_? 

"Hey," Jim replied, the sad smile not leaving his face. They sat in silence for a while, looking over the forest behind both their houses.

Toby considered telling Jim about the voices. He was the only one Toby could tell. But Toby had a feeling Jim needed someone to talk to and not be talked at. He waited, kicking his feet.

"You know," Jim started, drawing his knees to his chest. "I think I messed up."

"Oh? That test in Math wasn't too hard," replied Toby.

Jim chuckled. "No, I messed up..." he trailed off. Toby realized he didn't want to mention the T-word again because of how he acted the last time Jim talked about trolls.

"You think you messed up being the Trollhunter?" asked Toby. Jim shot him a grateful look and sighed.

"Being the Trollhunter was _hard,_ Tobes. Keeping it a secret, still doing schoolwork, the fighting, making choices that had very serious consequences," Jim explained. He lifted his hands and looked at them. "So when someone gave me a chance to go back and be normal again, I didn't hesitate. I took it and thought it was for the better."

Jim sighed and let his hands drop as he looked up at the sky. "But I also miss it, Tobes. I miss our friends. Blinky and Aaarrrgghh!!. I'm worried that they can't do it without me."

Toby looked at Jim. Blinky? Aaarrrgghh!!? Were those trolls? Which one was the creature that had been in his room?

"Well, what's the worst that can happen if you aren't the Trollhunter?" Toby asked.

"The end of the world," said Jim.

"Oh," said Toby. He didn't know how to respond to that.

They sat in silence for several minutes.

"Look, Jim, I don't pretend to know how magical amulets work," said Toby. "But if it picked you, you were probably really good at the job, right?" Jim looked thoughtful at that.

"Well, I wasn't the worst Trollhunter," Jim stated.

"Who was that?" asked Toby.

"Unkar the Unfortunate. Died his first night as Trollhunter. Torn limb from limb," explained Jim. Toby winced.

"Well, you made it several weeks at least," remarked Toby.

"Yeah," replied Jim, that sad smile still on his face.

"Well... if you think they need help and you are the only one that can... then give them a heads up," said Toby. "I mean, information is power, right Jimbo?"

"Maybe you're right, Tobes."

And they sat on that roof for an hour, just talking, not about trolls, not about voices. It was like it was before. And when Toby went back to his house, he went up to his room and slept better than he had in weeks.

* * *

Two days later, Toby had a dentist appointment that lasted _hours_. One of those appointments that would not end, Dr. Muelas singing in Spanish while his instruments were probing Toby's molars mercilessly. If there was an evil shape-shifting creature in their town, the good doctor was surely one of them. He just took too much pleasure in others' pain.

As night fell, there was a rumble. An earthquake? All of them froze in the exam room as the lights flickered.

"Ah, that is the signal to stop, I think," said Dr. Muelas. His assistant started to help him clean up as Toby sat up and rubbed his jaw. Her cell phone chirped, and she glanced at it and then did a double-take. Her face broke out in a wide grin that didn't look too friendly.

"Good news?" asked Toby. "Oh yes," she replied.

Suddenly there was a flash of green and where a very human woman was once standing stood _something else._ She was all wild hair and stone skin and sharp teeth. She wasn't as big as the creature Toby saw on the TV screen, but that didn't make her less terrifying. She shrieked, and both Toby and the dentist jumped back towards the door.

"Gladys, what happened?" asked Dr. Muelas as he put himself between the monster and Toby.

"Gunmar is free! I am free!" She pointed at the dentist. "Maybe you will listen next time someone asks you for a raise!"

Toby ran out of the room while the doctor grabbed a metal tray to try to hit the Gladys monster. He grabbed his cell phone to call the only person he thought could help.

Jim picked up on the second ring. "Tobes!"

"Dude! It's true! Everything you said is true!" Toby ran to the street, finally hearing the sirens and panicked screaming. "What the heck is going on!?"

Behind him, the Gladys monster had forced Dr. Muslas outside to the sidewalk. "Die!" she yelled, while the dentist hit her with the metal tray. It did not faze her, however, and he was quickly overwhelmed.

"Find Claire! Get somewhere safe!" Jim yelled over the phone.

"Claire?" Toby asked. How would Toby keep her safe against trolls? He needed a bodyguard. A troll bodyguard. A _troll-guard_.

"Come here! Now for the main course!" yelled the thing that used to be Gladys, jaws dripping with blood. Toby yelped and ran.

"Help me!" he screamed, dropping his phone as Jim called out to him over the line.

"No one to help you now!" she replied, giving chase down the street. She was able to tackle him. He tried punching her, but it did not affect her. He screamed as she leaned in to rip his throat out.

Toby braced himself to die (I did know what a girl's lipstick tastes like!) when there was a roar. Gladys paused before being knocked off of Toby. Toby was shocked to see the monster from his bedroom, with glowing lines in his body and glowing green eyes. The good troll was protecting him, however, and Gladys decided that it was not worth the trouble to kill Toby when there was a whole city to plunder. She ran off.

The good troll helped him up and hummed. Toby was not surprised to recognize the voice.

"H-hey," he said. He put his fist out. The hulking troll just stared at it. "Hello," he rumbled.

"Soooooo," Toby said, letting the fist drop and running his hand through his hair. "Played any good video games lately?"


	2. Mentor

Blinky was always fascinated with trollkind's innate ability to know when the sun was in the sky. It was a weird tickle that happened on the skin, that signaled that the sun was up and that the upside was not safe for his kind. He doubted most trolls even noticed it. He wondered though if trolls like Vendel, who had not been on the surface for centuries, felt the sensation. Did the Krubera, who lived in the deepest caves for thousands of years, even get the warning anymore.

So when Blinky felt the itch that morning, he retreated to his library to try to keep his nervous fretting in check. But it was a slight distraction. He was reading a book, three hands holding the book so unconsciously hard that he was leaving indents in the pages. His fourth hand was on the table, drumming his fingers in agitation.

_Taptaptap..._

That stubborn...

_Taptaptap..._

Obstinate...

_Taptaptap..._

Bull-headed...

_Taptaptap..._

Trollhunter!

A large hand gently covered Blinky's, and he jumped. He smiled at Aaarrrgghh!! with a thin smile. Everything was fine. Just because Kanjigar was tardy didn't mean anything terrible had happened. He may have fought with Bular, but he probably came to a draw. He always did. Maybe he won. Maybe Bular was defeated. That would be stupendous.

"Late," said Aaarrrgghh!!, and once again, the Krubera's use of one word summed up Blinky's feelings so well. 

"Indeed," Blinky agreed. "But Kanjigar's absence is not in itself an indication that something bad happened." Was he trying to convince Aaarrrgghh!! or himself? "Still, we may need to go looking for him. He may be injured."

Aaarrrgghh!! nodded. "Get Draal," he simply said and left the library. Blinky left as well, heading to the crystal staircase. Halfway there, he reconsidered and changed course. If Bular was waiting by the main entrance, then Blinky would use another one.

He used an entrance to the sewers and went to a grate. The bright light hurt his eyes, but once they adjusted, he gasped. Under the bridge that marked the entrance of Trollmarket was a pile of rocks. Blinky knew what that was even from this distance: the remains of a troll. The question remained. Was it Bular or Kanjigar?

The glint of blue confirmed Blinky's worst fears. The Amulet was sitting on the pile. That meant it was the remains of Kanjigar.

Blinky cursed. He had warned his friend. Bular was engaging in battle later and later in the morning. It was a matter of time before the Trollhunter would be forced to confront the Gumm-Gumm at sunrise. But did Kanjigar listen to him? No.

"Let him face me at dawn," replied the Trollhunter. "It will be his undoing."

Stubborn, obstinate, bull-headed Trollhunter.

His friend.

Dead.

Sunset was hours away, and all Blinky could do was watch the Amulet as it sat in board daylight. Was it close enough that he could run out and grab it? They couldn't let it stay there, Bular may grab it once the sun was down. On the bridge, Blinky could hear cars pass by, the human drivers unaware that Blinky's friend was there in ruins. He even heard a young human yell.

"Final bell! We're so late, our kids are gonna have detention!"

Hours passed with no change. Blinky wanted to get the others, but he didn't want to leave the Amulet for one moment. Bular may not be able to get it while the sun was in the sky, but what if, Deya forbid, a human found it. Finally, at noon, with the sun at its peak, the Amulet moved. It floated above the rock pile and stayed there. Was it choosing someone?

Was it choosing him?

The Amulet glowed even brighter, and in a flash, vanished. Blinky could only wish that it was safe, and the new Trollhunter could rise to the challenge. Were they in Arcadia? On this continent? One could only hope. Trollmarket would be vulnerable without its protector.

Blinky made his way through Trollmarket, rushing as fast as his legs could take him to Vendel's workspace in the Heartstone. He must know about Kanjigar. So should Draal. He shoved past a group of trolls that wouldn't move for him. "Excuse me!" he nearly yelled.

He made it to the Heartstone. "Vendel! Vendel! Kanjigar is-" he stopped for a moment, panting. "Kanjigar is dead! He fell in battle!"

"I know Blinkous," Vendel replied. He stood in the middle of the Heartstone, glowing staff in hand. A look of grief softened his face.

"How-how do you know?" asked Blinky, slowly walking to the leader of Trollmarket. Aaarrrgghh!! was there too, sharing the look of pain that Vendel had. It was then Blinky noticed Draal for the first time. He was looking down into his hands sadly. How did he know about his father already?

"Draal, I am sorry," began Blinky. He reached out to put his hand on Draal's arm. It was then he noticed a blue glow coming from Draal's hands.

"My father has fallen," said Draal slowly. "But his legacy will live on."

Draal stood and lifted his hand, the Amulet glowing.

"For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!"

The armor materialized, and in a flash, Draal was standing in the Trollhunter's armor. He opened his hand, and Daylight appeared. "On my honor, Bular will pay for this," he growled.

* * *

The next few days were undoubtedly trying ones. Draal refused any help or consul. If he was not out at night looking for Bular, he was in the Hero's Forge, training. He only wanted Aaarrrgghh!! to assist in his practice, but Aaarrrgghh!! had refused this evening, stating he was not comfortable with Draal's level of violence.

Blinky was in the Forge with Draal, trying to help. "Master Draal, I believe you are leaving yourself open to attack with that stance!"

Draal glared at him, panting as he threw Daylight at the training dummy, and the sword embedded itself in its head. 

"I have been training in this Forge since we reached the New World Blinky. I do not need your input."

Daylight disappeared, and so did the armor. Draal was walking away when Blinky could hear his own voice echoing in the vast space: "Wider stance. Keep your frame."

Draal turned around and growled. "I do not require your guidance!"

Blinky looked around in wonder. "That was not me, Draal, I swear." Just as he turned around to see if anyone was behind them, his voice echoed in the chamber again: "Head up, chin out, stomach in."

Draal roared in frustration and pounded the floor before charging. He grabbed Blinky's suspenders and picked him up. "I do not need the assistance of the trainer of Unkar the Unfortunate!" he yelled while pointing to the statue of the mentioned fallen Trollhunter. Unkar's arm picked that moment to fall off and land at their feet. He dropped Blinky and stalked out of the Forge, leaving Blinky to stare around the space in wonder.

What in the world was that?

* * *

Several days later, Draal was in Blinky and Aaarrrgghh!!'s shared home. The Krubera had refused to train with Draal again, and Draal was pacing the room in anger.

"How can you refuse?" asked Draal. "I don't understand. If you wish not to fight, that is one thing, but how can you decline to help me train to stop the monster who slew my father?"

Aaarrrgghh!! hummed and shifted nervously. "Voices," he simply said.

"Voices?" asked Blinky. Aaarrrgghh!! nodded. "Voices. In the Forge." 

Draal threw his hands up in irritation, but Blinky put the book he was reading down and went to his friend. As vague as it was, Blinky knew if Aaarrrgghh!! was unsettled, then it was something to pay attention to.

"What voices?"

"Your voice. Training someone. Giving advice. Young voice responds. You call him Master Jim," explained Aaarrrgghh!!.

Blinky thought about it for a moment and then put a hand on Aaarrrgghh!!'s arm. "I, too, have heard the voices in the Forge. This is strange. We must find out why we hear these things."

"Well! While you two are off playing games like two whelps, I will be out, looking for the Gumm-Gumm who _killed my father_!" Before Draal could leave, however, Bagdwella burst through the door. "Trollhunter!" she gasped, panting too hard to continue.

"Oh, no. Is it the Heartstone?" asked Blinky.

"No! No!" she gasped.

"Stalkling?" asked Aaarrrgghh!!.

"Is Bular in Trollmarket?" demanded Draal.

"No! _Gnome_! Rouge gnome!" Bagdwella cried.

Draal growled in frustration. "I do not have _time_ for this!" He stomped out of the hut. Blinky rushed out after him.

"Master Draal! Draal! A Trollhunter must answer every call!" Blinky tried to lecture in his most commanding voice but yelped when Draal stopped, turned around, and growled at him.

" _This_ Trollhunter is going to do what needs to be done. Kill Bular, the last Gumm-Gumm on the surface, so that Trollmarket will be safe, once and for all," Draal said in a low rumble. He moved his arm to the side, and without stating the incantation, summoned the armor. Well, he was certainly getting the hang of it.

As Draal stomped off, Blinky returned to his home and took Bagdwella's hand. "Let's see if we can help," he said.

* * *

Blinky avoided Draal for the next few weeks. Truly, if the Trollhunter did not want his help, he would not have it. Unfortunately, that meant he could not investigate Aaarrrgghh!!'s claims of voices in the Forge. Also unfortunate was the fact that he and Aaarrrgghh!! were consistently besieged by trolls asking for help. Since Aaarrrgghh!! and Blinky destroyed the gnome that plagued Bagdwella, and the current Trollhunter refused to help in "trivial matters," they were the ones that other trolls looked to for help.

What was must curious was the reports of disembodied voices in Trollmarket were spreading. At least two of them as far as Blinky could tell from the statements. Speaking the human's English, never Trollish. All kinds of subjects too; food, curses, gnomes. Even one memorable occasion when Trollmarket's tattoo artist said he heard a voice asking for a broken heart. With a crack in the middle. Weeping.

With all this evidence, Blinky went to Vendel's healing cave, to see what the elder had to say about it.

"What would you like me to say?" Vendel asked.

Blinky stood behind Vendel, staring at his back, while the elder troll worked on a healing potion. Blinky shifted from one foot to the other. "I would think, Vendel, that if there were a threat to Trollmarket, you would have some means to stop it."

"What threat, Blinkous?" asked Vendel.

"Well, these voices, they could be caused by pixies," explained Blinky.

"Are they? Are all these hallucinations just auditory, or do visions accompany them as well?"

"Just auditory," growled Blinky.

"Interesting. So you have no proof that it is pixies." Vendel glanced over his shoulder at Blinky with an annoyed look. "I know what you are trying to do, Blinkous."

Blinky stood a little straighter. "And what, exactly, am I trying to do?"

Vendel grabbed his staff and stood, using it for support. "You are upset that Draal is not looking to you for advice. Not being able to mentor him is causing you to look for trouble where there is none. You've never met a conspiracy theory you didn't like."

"I hate conspiracies. That is why I am dedicated to rooting them out."

"Like you rooted out the plot to rid Trollmarket of all its cat meat?" asked Vendel, walking closer to Blinky.

"That was a misunderstanding!" Blinky cried, putting all four hands to his sides.

"Or the time you were convinced we were infected with flea trolls?" Vendel asked in an annoyed tone.

"Precaution is the soul of virtue."

"Everyone in Trollmarket thinks you're paranoid."

"If it's everyone, it must be a _conspiracy_!" yelled Blinky.

Vendel sighed and put a hand to his face. "Blinkous," he said in a softer tone. "Draal is grieving in his way. It is understandable that he rather focus on defeating Bular and not 'answer every call.' But he has been training for the mantle of Trollhunter almost his entire life. I believe he can handle it."

"But the Amulet should choose the best troll for the job, not just the son of the previous Trollhunter," explained Blinky.

Vendel looked shocked. "Are you saying that Draal is not competent to wield the amulet? That is a serious charge to make Blinkous."

"It just has not felt _right_ to me since the day Kanjigar died. And I think the voices are part of it. It can not be chance alone that the voices started at the same time Draal received the Amulet."

Vendel looked at him for a few moments, Blinky folding his arms and glaring back. Finally, the older troll sighed and turned to continue to his work. "I will keep an eye on Draal. If it looks like he can not perform his duties, _all_ of them, I will test him with the Soothscryer. But in the meantime, let this business of voices go Blinkous. Do not be desperate to see danger where none exists."

* * *

Several days later, Blinky was in his library, sorting through his books. He had done as Vendel asked and stopped investigating the voices, but it didn't stop the other trolls from asking himself and Aaarrrgghh!! to help with other tasks that Draal ignored. As a result, Blinky's library was a mess. Blinky was doing his best to clean up when he caught Aaarrrgghh!! eating a book.

"Perhaps you should consider reading my books instead of eating them," he scolded, grimacing at the spit-covered tome. 

"Blinky!" a voice cried, and Blinky looked. If it was one of the disembodied voices, he halfway expected nothing to be there, but to his shock, a human was walking towards him. A _human_?

He yelled, and the instinct to hide from humans caused him to back up so quickly, he tripped over his feet. Books and papers fell as the young human (How young? He couldn't tell, he was never good with telling how old a human was) walked up to him. Aaarrrgghh!! was not much help as he stood in confusion and hummed to himself.

"A human! Begone fleshbag!" he yelled in a commanding voice, trying to hit him on the nose with a book. The boy ducked. Blinky looked around to see if he could use something else to threaten the fleshling. "Oooor... Or else my sizable friend here will _eat_ you!"

Blinky was hoping Aaarrrgghh!! would help him with a growl, but Aaarrrgghh!! seemed startled to see a human and just stared in surprise. Some former Gumm-Gumm he was being. "Uh, Aaarrrgghh!!'s a pacifist," the human replied smugly.

"Pacifist," replied Aaarrrgghh!!, glancing at Blinky. Blinky shared his look of wonder and stopped trying to hit the human. "How did you know that?" he asked, taking in the human before him.

"Unkar sent me back in time to give me a second chance," the boy explained, pushing Blinky's book away.

"Unkar?" Blinky gave out a bark of laughter in disbelief. "That's impossible! No troll, even a spirit, holds the power to change fate itself!"

The boy held out his hands. "Fate _changed_ , ok? And now, I need to find the Trollhunter. They're building Killahead Bridge!"

"Killahead?" rumbled Aaarrrgghh!!. He glanced at Blinky. How would a human know about Killahead Bridge? Unless. _Unless_. The creature in front of them was not human.

"Um, actually," Blinky shared a look with the hulking troll, thinking fast, "We believe you, young human," Blinky said slowly. Must keep it busy. He gently led it deeper into the library. The not-boy groaned and sat down, not seeing Blinky's look of revulsion. "Finally. Thank you."

"Aaarrrgghh!!, go find the Trollhunter, Draal." Hopefully, the stubborn troll could be found in Trollmarket.

The thing that was not a boy looked at them with a smile. "Draal is the Trollhunter?" Why would it look relieved at that revelation?

"And have him bring," continued Blinky, dropping his voice and leaning towards his friend, "... a gaggletack."

The creature heard him and gasped. "You think I'm a changeling?!"

"Quick, restrain him!" yelled Blinky, but by the time Aaarrrgghh!! tried to snatch the creature it had done a backflip off the table and ran out of the library. "He's escaping! Quick!" Blinky cried, but it was already running out into Trollmarket.

"He's got moves," Aaarrrgghh!! rumbled in appreciation.

"Indeed," replied Blinky as they lost the changeling in the crowd. "Clearly, his evil masters have trained him well."

Blinky growled in frustration as the changeling disappeared utterly. It most have been living in Trollmarket for weeks, maybe months, to learn how to evade them so well. It must be the source of the voices as well, although what its nefarious plan was Blinky did not know.

"Look for Draal on the surface; I will search for him in the Forge." Aaarrrgghh!! nodded and rushed off.

* * *

Blinky was not surprised to find the Forge empty. Draal was more likely to be on the surface at night than here. Blinky was turning around to look for Vendel when three blue balls of light appeared in front of him.

Blinky gasped as they floated inches from his face. They drifted through him and towards the middle of the Forge. He slowly followed as they disappeared into the floor. With a rumble and the sound of moving gears, the Soothscryer emerged, and Blinky was left staring at it in awe, the changeling and his wild report of Killahead Bridge forgotten.

The three lights reappeared and made circles around him. "Do you wish for me to use the Soothscryer?" he asked. The lights did not respond, but they made circles around him and the Soothscryer as if to say yes.

He climbed onto the Soothscryer, gulping as the gears inside its mouth turned and snapped. Could a troll use the Soothscryer if that troll was not the Trollhunter and still have all of their limbs intact? At least he had three other hands. Surely he wouldn't miss one?

He turned his head and closed five of his eyes, but kept one open as he reached out with his upper right hand.

The Soothscryer clamped unto his arm, and he tried to keep himself from yelling and snatching it back. Its gears groaned for a moment, but then it let go of his arm. Blinky yelped as it turned and collapsed back into the Forge, making him trip and fall on his backside. He watched it leave with a scowl on his face. Well, that didn't accomplish anything. The blue lights drifted above him as if to mock him.

Blinky had picked himself off of the floor and turned around to get back to the crisis at hand when he stopped in confusion. There, in front of him, was himself and the changeling, sitting on the floor with their backs to him. They were blurry and almost see-through, so it must be a vision of sorts, but it was unrefutable who it was. He started to walk towards it, their conversation becoming more apparent as he got nearer.

"-so kind as to hand me the 10-millimeter wrench, Master Jim?" his vision self said. Blinky walked around to see that they were working on the parts of a human-machine in front of them. Blinky couldn't remember what it was called, but it had wheels and handlebars and chrome. The young changeling smiled and handed his vision self the tool he had requested. They seemed to be content, just sitting and working together. Was this a vision of the future? Why would he work with a changeling?

"All hail Jim, the Bular Slayer!" a voice rang out. Blinky jumped and turned to see Aaarrrgghh!! walking up with a young, rotund human with red hair. They were also blurry and see-through, so part of the vision. Wait, what had the human said? Bular Slayer? The taller human snorted and rolled his eyes, not stopping his work. "Give it a break Tobes; I have been hearing that for two weeks now."

"But Jimbo, you need a kick-ass nickname to show that you kicked some ass!" said the new human. He sat on the floor in front of the machine, digging into a backpack to bring out a snack.

"I'm sure Master Jim will earn an excellent moniker with the many adventures in store for him," his vision self replied. "And do watch the language, Tobias. NotEnrique has been enlightening me in human curse words, and do try to, what do you humans say? 'Keep it PG?'"

The one known as Tobias giggled awkwardly, and Jim laughed. "I just hope it's not Jim the Jinxed."

"Jolly?" offered Aaarrrgghh!!.

"Joyful?" Tobias suggested with a grin.

"Juvenile?" his vision self submitted, getting in on the joke.

"Ha-ha," Jim said. "Very funny." He picked himself off the floor and dusted off his pants. "Well, Blinky, I think its time for some training." And with that, he produced the Amulet from a back pocket.

"For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!"

So strange to see a human wearing the armor. So small, so compact, but there it was, in all its grandeur, gleaming. Blinky looked at the vision with his mouth open, lost for words. Why did this seem so _right_?

"Right you are Master Jim," said his vision self, and he put a hand on the human's shoulder and beamed. "Perhaps a game of capture the flag with Aaarrrgghh!!?"

And they walked off, Aaarrrgghh!! and Tobias following, the vision vanishing like smoke in thin wisps. But he was able to catch the look on his face as his vision self walked away. Pride. Proud of the young human next to him.

Blinky did not have time to reflect; because as the last of the vision faded away, Bagdwella came running in yelling. "Gumm-Gumms!"

"What!?" he yelled.

"Gumm-Gumms have been sighted on the surface!" she clarified, gasping. He scowled. This could only mean one thing. Gunmar. And he felt his stomach drop. Aaarrrgghh!! was on the surface.

"We must find Vendel," he told her. But as they left the Forge, he paused and looked back.

Whatever the future held, he had a feeling that the vision was a glimpse of how things could have been different.

Could have been _better_.


	3. Impure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some horror and gore at the end of this one, so proceed with caution.

Nomura padded through her apartment to the kitchen, talons clicking on the wood floor. She was so happy that her job allowed her to pay for her apartment without roommates, allowing her to be in troll form from the minute she got home to the minute she left. It meant she had to cover the windows to prevent anyone from seeing her, but it was worth it. She loved preening in front of the mirror in all her magenta glory, eating raw meat, and never cooking, not having to see her human form until she was getting ready for work. Strickler would have a cow if he knew but screw him. It was her apartment. If someone could walk around naked in their own space, then she could be a troll if she wanted.

Her cell went off. The ringtone was Handel's _Giulio Cesare in Egitto._ Speak of the devil, and he will appear. She changed back into a human before accepting the call. The bastard would probably somehow know that she wasn't a human and lecture her otherwise. "Yes," she flatly answered.

"We have a problem," he practically growled into the line. "Kanjigar is dead. Bular, the idiot, fought him at sunrise, and Kanjigar fell into the sun's path so he couldn't acquire the Amulet. It disappeared before he could get it. It has already chosen the new Trollhunter."

"I fail to see how that is a problem," she responded, playing with a cooking knife by moving it across her knuckles. If they were lucky, the new Trollhunter would not be in Arcadia, not a trained fighter, or just really, really stupid. If they were remarkably lucky, then the new Trollhunter would be like Unkar and die in one fight with Bular.

"Bular saw him. The new Trollhunter is Draal."

Nomura felt her stomach drop, and she almost lost the knife. She adjusted her grip on the handle instead and squeezed until her knuckles turned white. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Lovely," she grumbled.

"You need to make sure he doesn't see you. If he realized that you were still here in Arcadia, then it may jeopardize _everything_ ," he said. "Trollmarket doesn't know Changelings are living above them. We need to keep it that way."

She threw the knife so that it landed in the wood holder with a _twack._ Figures that Strickler would call her to scold her like this. It was her relationship with Draal that had almost fucked them over last time. So, of course, she couldn't be trusted not to fuck up this time either.

"Does he know what your human form looks like?" asked Strickler.

"I doubt it. He saw it for a split second." When Kanjigar had used the gaggletack on her, she left unsaid. "And trolls think all humans look alike."

"Still, do not, for any reason, let him see you, which means staying indoors at night. Bular will have to keep the fool occupied."

"So you are not sending me away?" she asked bitterly.

"For now... no," he explained. "We are too close to completing the Bridge, and the museum is the most suitable place to construct it. Hiding in plain sight. If you leave, we don't have anyone who can guard it." He paused, and Nomura imagined him playing with that blasted pen of his. "Just keep your head down. Just a few more months, maybe weeks, and all we have been working towards will come to fruition."

"Whatever you think is best," she replied and ended the call before he could say anything else. She went over to a cabinet and moved a false bottom on a drawer. There was a bottle of glug that she had been saving for decades. A gift from Draal when they were together. She got it out and uncorked it, changing back to her troll form.

"Congratulations, Draal," she said to the empty room after downing half the bottle. "You finally became the Trollhunter, just like you always wanted."

* * *

One week later, Nomura was working late at the museum with the goblins putting the latest pieces of the Bridge together. It was simple, really. If you just got them close to each other, they joined together by themselves. Something even the goblins could handle. She just kept an eye on things so the goblins wouldn't slack off or have the night guard, Anthony, stumble on them. 

She could hear Anthony's shoes clicking down the hall, and she quickly changed back into a human and shooed the goblins back into the grate in the floor to the sewer. She had to kick the last one down the hole a split second before Anthony came through the curtain hiding the wing from the rest of the museum.

"Burning the midnight oil, Ms. Nomura?" he asked with a smile. She smiled back to hide her annoyance. It was too early for him to show up.

"Something like that," she lightly replied.

"Is that thing getting bigger?" he asked, gesturing to the Bridge under the tarp.

"Yes, I'm slowly getting the pieces together," she responded. She was trying so hard to keep that smile on her face. Anthony was asking too many questions.

"What is it, though? It looks like a bridge. I thought the next collection next in here is suppose to be Vikings."

 _Shit_. "It was a bridge at the site of a big battle in Europe. Perhaps Vikings were involved."

"Huh," he just said, walking out to continue his route. "I'll ask the boss about it tomorrow. Still seems like a weird thing for a museum to have on display."

* * *

"We have a problem."

"What is it now, Nomura. I barely can control Bular as it is," Strickler fussed over the phone.

"The night guard is asking too many questions. I'm worried that if he goes to the head curator that they will realize I am not restoring a Viking ship like I'm supposed to."

Strickler cursed in Trollish. "Alright, I will take care of it."

* * *

A few days later, Nomura was in the staff break room when she overheard a few of her coworkers talking.

"Did you hear? Anthony quit."

"Oh? That seems so unlike him."

"Yeah, just left a note saying he was quitting. Moving away. Didn't even pick up his last paycheck."

"How strange. I will miss him, though."

Nomura could only silently curse to herself. She doubted that the watchman quit and moved with no notice. No wonder Bular seemed so pleased with himself. _Damnit, I had kind of liked him too_. All for the glory of Gunmar, right?

* * *

A week later, Nomura stood outside of the museum with Strickler addressing his class before they went inside. "I know contemporary media might lead you to believe European history is full of swords, sorcery, and scandal," she said, gesturing with her arms to a group of bored teenagers. She saw Strickler roll his eyes in the corner of her eye. He knew as well as she did that contemporary media barely scratched the surface of what happened back in the old world. "I assure you, the truth is far more interesting." _History was also full of trolls, fairies, pixies, and changelings._ "And there's no better place to start than Renaissance Era pottery."

One kid looked enraptured, but the rest heaved heavy sighs. Well, not all of them. One kid stood back from the others, glaring at her like he just saw her kick a puppy.

"Since we have limited time, Ms. Nomura," Stickler said, stepping forward and looking over his class. "Perhaps it's best if they explore the museum on their own. Don't you think?" And before he finished his question, the teenagers were gone in a blur. The sour-looking one took his time, however, and slowly made his way up the stairs.

"What is his problem?" Nomura asked Strickler under her breath. He gave her a pained look. "Teenagers," he simply said, but Nomura knew him well enough to sense that wasn't the only thing on his mind. They made their way into the museum.

The students had mostly scattered, but she and Strickler hesitated to make sure they were not being watched as they slipped into the empty wing. Well, empty except for the Bridge. Strickler lifted a corner of the tarp and took a glance at the base. "Any trouble out of the new night watchman?" he asked.

"No, he stays in the office and sleeps all night," Nomura replied.

"Good," Strickler lead her back outside the curtain, and they paused in front of a display of swords. To the casual observer, they were two friends talking about the broadsword behind the glass. "No more witnesses," he murmured. "A human knowing about the Bridge is just as dangerous as Trollmarket. From now on, if anyone sees you, you have permission to eliminate them. With extreme prejudice."

"And Draal?" she asked. Stay calm, stay casual. She wasn't asking because she cared about him. She was asking for the mission.

"Staying busy, thanks to our mutual friend," he replied. He said the word _friend_ like he would say the phrase _anti-vaxxer_ or _flat-earther_. "His thirst for vengeance seems to be keeping him occupied."

"Good," she said as they turned from the display and walked deeper into the museum. All the students were either looking at the art or their phones. The one who had looked happy to be there was trying to show his phone to a bored-looking girl. "At first, I thought it was an alien. Definitely not human. It's some kind of monster!"

The girl put her hands on her hips. "Come on, give it up, Eli," she sighed as she walked off. It looked like everyone was enjoying themselves.

All except Mr. Sour. He was on the second floor, glaring down at her and Strickler. She tried to smile at the dark-haired teen, but the scowl just stayed on his face. She nudged Strickler and gestured to his student. "Did you give him an F on a paper?" she joked.

Strickler returned the glare to the young man who was above them. "Not sure," he responded. "I'm getting weary of maintaining brooding individuals."

"Oh come on, the leader of the Janus Order can't handle someone going through puberty?" she teased.

"This is different," he growled in response. His expression softened, and he addressed the class in a teacher's no-nonsense tone. "Alright, everyone, we have taken enough of Ms. Nomura's time. I think I saw the taco truck across the street. Tacos on me."

And with that, everyone cheered, and a shorter, fatter teen poked Mr. Sour. "Come on, Jimbo, tacos!" But Mr. Sour kept the same expression. Nomura maintained hers as well, a small benign smile. Well, if he didn't like Strickler, he couldn't be half bad.

* * *

Two nights later, she was working in the museum in troll form. In addition to the Bridge pieces, she had found a Fetch. No reason to use it, however. With Gunmar on the surface, new Changelings would not be needed. She was admiring it when a scent tickled her nose. Sweat, hormones, and a touch of bad breath. Teenagers. Was she being watched?

In the hallway, there was no one, except for Fragwa, who was also testing the air. He asked her a question in goblin-speak.

"Yes, I smell something," she answered, and they spent the next hour looking for anyone else in the museum. The new night guard was in the office sleeping, and he smelled like he usually did: BO, stale cigarettes, and a hefty dose of cologne. No one else. No open windows. No unlocked doors.

Strange. Nomura gave a glance to Fragwa as he joined the others to rest. Maybe she was just spending too much time in the museum by herself. She went back to her classical music and the Bridge.

* * *

Weeks later, the Bridge was finished.

Just like Otto to come in at the last moment with the Keystone and take all the glory for her hard work. She didn't try to make it personal. Strickler knew she did most of the work, and so would Gunmar. She was sure of it.

After Strickler and Bular had tried to jostle each other for Gunmar's attention and then Gunmar had asked to speak to his son alone, the Changelings had retreated outside the museum with Fragwa. It was midnight, and not a soul was in sight. They needed to come up with a plan to get Gunmar free. With the Bridge complete, it was just a manner of getting the Amulet.

"We can have someone infiltrate Trollmarket, _ja_?" asked Otto. "Make a fake Amulet and switch the two?"

"Too risky. Trollmarket is known to use gaggletacks on trolls they don't know at random," explained Strickler. "A fake Amulet is too much work to make with little chance of getting the real one away from Draal unnoticed. Better to get the Amulet when Draal is away from others, to make sure he will not have help."

"If he is anything like his father, he will work alone," offered Nomura.

"Indeed," Strickler said, giving her a look. "Maybe Bular can bring him to the museum." He got an evil-looking grin on his face. "Or maybe we can use something else as bait."

Nomura glowered at him. "What do you mean?"

"He wants to attack Bular for revenge. But maybe we need to use someone else to get his guard down. An old flame. Someone who comes to him for help? Appeal to his sense of duty," Strickler explained. Otto just looked at her and gave that giggle he made when he was nervous. Even Fragwa gave her a leer.

"What are you getting at?" she demanded.

"You approach Draal. Tell him the Bridge is here, in Arcadia, complete. Play the damsel in distress."

"I'm hardly the damsel in distress. What if he tells anyone else about this?"

"You said yourself; he works alone. And really, what if he tells anyone else? It's complete. They can't stop it from being built. They won't know where it is, and we can move it if need be," Strickler said. "Look at it this way, Nomura. You can prove your loyalty to Gunmar once and for all."

And if she failed, Gunmar would have reason to kill her. Wonderful.

"Alright," she said, crossing her arms. "I'll do it."

* * *

When she got home that early morning, she finished the rest of the glug first thing after walking through the door.

* * *

Tracking a Trollhuter proved hard work. It took Nomura a week to find him in the forest one night. He was crossing a clearing when she stepped out from behind a tree. He seemed not to recognize her for a moment, but with a snort, he shook his head and started to walk away.

"Not now, impure. I have no time."

Did he just really _dismiss_ her like that? She started walking with him, keeping her distance. "I'm sorry to hear about your father."

He growled but kept walking. She kept up with him as the forest thickened. They walked in silence for several minutes before he stopped and turned around to face her. "What is it, Nomura?"

"I have something very important to tell you. Something the Trollhunter should know."

He folded his arms and snorted again. "Well, what is it impure?"

She tried to ignore his use of "impure."

"The Killahead Bridge has been put back together."

He laughed. "Bushigal," he simply said, and he started walking away again.

She kept walking with him. "It's true! The Janus Order has completed it. Trollmarket is in danger!"

As he walked, he held up his hand and started sticking out his fingers as he talked. "One, I still don't believe you when you say this Janus Order exists. Two, the Bridge, which I saw broken into thousands of pieces with my own eyes, could never be put back together, it would take thousands of years, long after Gunmar would have rotted in the Darklands. And three, why would you tell me about it?"

"Maybe I don't want to see Gunmar make it to the surface."

"Why, has living as a fleshbag made you soft, impure?"

She leaped into the air and did a flip so that she landed in front of him. She had raised her right hand to backhand Draal but he grabbed her wrist before she could make contact with his face. He looked stunned as she screamed in his face: "Call me impure again! I dare you!"

His face settled into a scowl, and he raised the fist that was not holding her wrist to hit her, but she pulled away from him and drew her swords. He dropped into a ball to bowl her over. But she held her glowing swords in front of her to damage as she could as he spun. Sparks flew and lit the clearing as bright as day.

They broke off and Draal tried punching her but she kept out of reach and he ended up hitting the ground instead. She hit him on the head with her right sword just to have him block. She used her left sword as sparks flew and it lodged itself in the armor's helmet, but he used this as a way to push her back and get her off balance.

She leaped back and landed on a log, coiling her legs under her and flipping behind him. She stuck with both swords and somehow found a weak point in the armor. He yelled in pain, and she laughed. 

She started swinging her arms in a criss-cross pattern, making him cover his face. He fell back for a few feet, but grabbed the swords and opened his arms, making her cross her own, and roared in her face. He used the swords to swing her back and forth, hitting the ground with her body, once, twice, three times, before launching her into the air.

How far could a bull troll throw a Changeling her size? Nomura wasn't sure, but it had to be at least a mile. She crashed through trees and hit a few trunks before coming to a complete stop, gasping and moaning.

She slowly stood up, using her swords for support. Well, that didn't go as planned.

* * *

When she got home, Strickler called. She changed back into a human before answering, although she regretted it. Her injuries were more painful in human form. She found an old bottle of painkillers and took about four of them.

"He knows about the Bridge, but doesn't believe me," she answered the phone with no preamble.

"Bloody hell, you sound horrible. What happened?"

Nomura checked her reflection in the mirror. The black eye would hopefully fade by morning, but the cracked ribs would take time. The nasal tone of her voice was all due to a broken nose, and she was pretty sure her right ankle was fractured. "We fought. I got thrown." She didn't want to go into detail about why.

"Keep at it. Bular keeps fighting with him but doesn't want to lead him to the museum. Says he can kill Draal and get the Amulet. You might be the only one to get him there."

She sighed as she felt the painkillers kicking in. Why was she always dealing with male egos? "Alright," she said and ended the call.

* * *

A few nights later, she ran into Draal again. He was wandering the part of streets of single-family homes farthest from the center of town where the museum was. He noticed her crouched on a roof, like some crazy jeweled gargoyle, and snorted at her so hard the ring in his nose twitched. "Want me to deliver you pain again, Nomura?"

"Maybe I want to rekindle what we had, Draal," she said, dropping from the roof in front of him. She noticed his lack of the word "impure."

"Rekindle this!" he shouted, and Daylight materialized, and he swung at her head. She caught it between her hands and grinned. "Have to catch me first," she challenged.

She shoved Daylight to her right and jumped up, kicking Draal in the face before flipping and landing behind him. She didn't look back as he roared and just started running down the block. Lights started being turned on in all the houses, but they would be gone before the humans saw them if she kept him moving.

He followed, punching when he got close but not hitting her, leaving tire-sized potholes in the pavement. She kept kicking and hitting him when she had an opening, keeping him mad enough to follow. Dogs barked, car alarms went off, and Nomura was sure she heard a teenaged voice scream "I knew it!" at one point.

They headed to the city's center, over the road that marked the entrance to Trollmarket, and had made it several blocks from the museum before he got a hold of her. He threw her into an alley, and she hit a dumpster. She groaned and held her head as he stood over her panting.

He started to walk away, and she shouted after him. "Just follow me for five more minutes! You can see the Bridge with your own eyes." She pointed at the roof of the museum that they could see from where they were standing.

He rounded back and held up a finger. "No! I will not play your game!"

"It's not a game!" she screamed back. "I thought you being the Trollhunter would mean you would finally have some honor!"

He paused, panting. He considered for a minute, glaring at her as she picked herself off the ground. "I always thought that if I were to be the Trollhunter after my father, I would ignore the 'answer every call' Bushigal that Blinky was still going on about," he stated, mostly to himself. There was the sound of a police siren moving towards the suburban neighborhood they had run through, and that seemed to snap him back to the present. "Alright, I will follow you. Tomorrow night."

"Why tomorrow night?" she asked. Not that she minded. This way she could make sure Bular and the others were ready for an ambush.

"I wish to search for Bular more this evening. I haven't checked the sewers," he explained and started walking off. She sighed and dusted herself off—time to call Strickler.

* * *

Strickler was pleased. He actually complimented her before ending the call. "Get some rest," he said, "You deserve it."

She called out from work. Her hit on the dumpster had resulted in bruises all down her side in her human form. There was no way she would be able to hide them. Better to stay at home in troll form.

She took several more painkillers and walked to her sound system. She ran her finger across her record collection—the entire play of _Peer Gynt_. _In the Hall of the Mountain King_ had always been a personal favorite. She put it on and went to her couch to relax.

She let the music wash over her. She would miss this. Humans making music. What they were making today was shit, of course, but what they have made in the past? It was pure gold, and she would miss it.

The record stopped, and she went to the record player to choose something else. Antonio Bazzini's chamber music. She put it on and padded to the kitchen.

She happened to look at the oven when she was getting some raw meat. She paused as she chewed. The oven's glass was not a mirror, true, but she should be able to see herself in it. 

She quickly walked across the apartment and noticed that she had no reflection on the TV screen. The first few frenzied notes of Bazzini's _The Dance of the Goblins_ started as she dashed into the bedroom.

The full-length mirror was set up on a wall, and she grabbed the edges as she peered into it. Nothing. She could see the bedroom behind her, but she wasn't there.

She blinked. She rubbed her eyes. She shook her head. She tried hitting her head to see if a pixie came out. She even tried changing into a human and back again. Maybe the painkillers were more potent than she thought. But she was there, right? Just because she wasn't making a reflection, she was still there, right? She still existed.

Right?

She felt the beginning of a panic attack starting in her chest. No, there was an explanation for this. She would figure it out after the Bridge was opened. After Gunmar was free. 

She threw a blanket on the mirror and avoided looking into the TV on her way to the liquor cabinet. She consumed a bottle of rum in almost one gulp. She finished the rum, and a bottle of tequila followed. She was halfway through a bottle of vodka when she finally got a hold of herself and stopped chugging.

She took several deep breaths and happened to look at the sword over the liquor cabinet. Its surface was rusted and old, so not the reflective surface it could be, but even then, she couldn't see herself. 

What could it mean?

* * *

After night fell, she entered the museum under the sleeping eye of the night watchman. She had been avoiding reflective surfaces all day but couldn't help seeing that she didn't show up in the various glass cases that filled the large space. She slipped into the wing that held the Bridge and waited for Strickler.

He arrived an hour later and surprised her when he changed instead of lecturing her about standing in the open space in troll form for anyone who could wander by to see. He must have been in a good mood.

"Tonight is the night," he said happily, an actual spring in his step. She didn't reply. If anyone could help her, it was Strickler, but she didn't know how to explain her problem up without sounding insane. _Hey Strickler, ever have a problem when you disappeared from mirrors? Just me? Ok._

"You're sure he hasn't told anyone?" he asked.

"Trust me, I know him," she replied, letting an evil grin bloom on her face. "He's stubborn. He works alone."

"Good, then all we do is lay the bait and Gunmar will be free."

Nomura thought she heard a gasp, and a familiar scent tickled her nose. But she ignored it. "What do you mean by bait?" she asked.

"He meant you, impure," came a deep voice from the shadows. Bular stepped out with a wicked grin on his face, sword gleaming almost as bright as his eyes. Nomura fought the urge to draw her swords. Strickler gave her an evil smile.

"Nothing personal, Nomura, just business," he said.

"Yeah, business," she sarcastically answered before making a run for the exit. Bular was anticipating that, however, and grabbed her before she left the wing. The last thing she remembered before he punched her, and she lost consciousness, was noticing just how bad his breath was.

* * *

When she came to, there was a lot of shouting, yelling, growling, and roaring going on. She slowly picked herself off the floor, groaning at the ache in her skull. Draal and Bular were fighting on top of the Bridge, Daylight flashing with every hit of Bular's sword. The Bridge was glowing, but it was only the three of them. Nomura shook her head to clear it, and that was when Draal noticed her.

"Run Nomura!" he yelled as he dropped into a ball to push Bular off the Bridge. Bular used his left sword to hold Draal back and swung with his right fist to hit Draal in the head. He went down and hung off the side with a grunt, and Bular stepped on him as he laid there, stunned.

"Why would she run, Trollhunter? She will bear witness to the return of my father," growled Bular.

Draal still looked dazed, but he shook his head and then glared at her. "I should have known," he said.

"Sorry, Draal. It's business," she replied. But why did she feel a flush of shame?

Bular grinned and grabbed Draal's hand. He forced Draal to grab the Amulet, and with a yell, he ripped it off of Draal's chest. Draal screamed as the armor disappeared. Bular laughed as he slammed Draal's fist into the Bridge, forcing the Amulet into its groove. The Bridge glowed, a vortex opened up under it, and Nomura scrambled to keep herself from being sucked in.

"Son!" Gunmar's voice bellowed.

"Father!" Bular answered.

Draal tried to elbow Bular in the face, but Bular dodged and punched Draal. He was knocked out cold as a figure started to climb its way out of the vortex.

Nomura gasped as a troll loomed over her. She had only heard the stories of Gunmar the Black, but to see him in person was another thing. He towered over her and took a deep breath. "Oh, the air is so fresh. How I have missed it." He looked around and glared at Nomura. "Why is this impure here to greet me and not Stricklander?"

"Father," Bular said as he jumped off the Bridge and bowed in front of his father. "Stricklander said he had to go to his office. I believe he was trying to avoid the fight. This impure was the one who built the Bridge and brought the Trollhunter here."

Nomura was shocked that Bular was singing her praises, but she just deeply bowed and laid her swords on the ground before her. "I live to serve, my lord," she simply said.

Gunmar snorted in her direction but smiled at her. "Then it as you said, my son. This world has made Stricklander soft." He rumbled deep in his chest as Gumm-Gumms started to file out of the vortex. "You will be exalted for your service to me, Changeling. Stricklander will not live to see tomorrow."

Nomura felt her heart jump in her chest. Granted, Changelings would sell each other out to gain any power they could. But she didn't want to see Strickler dead. "My lord," she kept her voice low and respectful. "It was Stricklander's orders that I was following. He has served you for centuries. I believe he will still serve you for many more."

"We shall see," he growled. He didn't flinch as two Stalklings soared out of the vortex to land on the top of the Bridge like two demented gargoyles. The space was almost full with Gumm-Gumm bodies. There was suddenly a shout, and Nomura turned to see the new night guard standing in shock at the curtain. There was a screech, and a Stalkling took flight to chase him out of the museum. Their little invasion was going to become public knowledge soon. Not that Arcadia's small police force would be able to stop it.

There was a roar from the top of the Bridge, and suddenly the vortex closed as Draal grabbed the Amulet. Two Gumm-Gumm soldiers were cut in half and turned to stone as the doorway to the Darklands closed. "For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!" There was a flash of light, and Draal went into a frenzy. The soldiers pointed their spears at him, but he tore through the ranks with a fury that Nomura had never seen before. Several soldiers were turned to stone by Daylight, some ending up as piles of rocks. Displays of artifacts were torn to pieces in mere seconds before Nomura could even think to attempt to save them. The remaining Stalkling tried to grab him and fly off, but it was made into a statue instead when Daylight went into its side. He even took a swipe at her, but she grabbed her swords and flipped out of his reach. He was brought down, however, when Gunmar punched him in the jaw. Bular pinned him down.

"Trollhunter," Gunmar growled. "How does it feel being the one that allowed Gunmar the Black to escape?"

"You will not win, Gunmar," Draal panted. "Trollmarket will not fall to you."

"Oh, on the contrary, it will," Gunmar said with an evil grin.

"Father, we need him to open the Bridge. We need more soldiers," explained Bular.

Gunmar shooked his head. "We will make new soldiers in Trollmarket. Plus, I have an ally who has sworn her loyalty to me. We don't need the Trollhunter."

Bular smile was obscene as he drew one of his swords and held it high. Draal reached out and roared at Gunmar, but turned to stone when Bular buried his sword in Draal's back. Nomura felt her heart ache as she saw the fear and desperation in his eyes before he became wholly transformed into stone.

There was total silence for several moments as no one dare to move or breathe. Gunmar chuckled as the Amulet fell off of Draal to land at his feet. He brought up one foot and crushed it without any comment.

There were sirens outside as police cars came to the museum. The Gumm-Gumms all started and pointed their spears at the noise. Gunmar brought his head up and sniffed at the air. He smiled at the smell of fresh meat in the air.

"Come, son," he said as the Decimaar Blade formed in his hand. "It is time to hunt."

Bular laughed darkly, and the two trolls marched out with their Gumm-Gumm horde behind them. They ignored her as she waited with Draal to be utterly alone.

"For what its worth," she started, speaking low to the statue of Draal, her former lover, "and I know that the word of a Changeling doesn't mean much right now, I'm sorry." She thought about destroying him thoroughly so that he wouldn't stay like this for an eternity. Or at least remove the sword from his back. But maybe he _should_ stay this way. If he had only fought Kanjigar for her, fought to stay by her side, not treat her like an impure. They could have been together; things would have been different.

She slowly made her out of the museum, the goblins following her and talking to themselves and giggling. "Come along," she said as she brought her swords out, "We're missing all the fun."

* * *

Chaos reigned in the streets of Arcadia that night. 

Nomura, who only ever wanted to be able to run around in troll form without consequence, ran the street with a sense of exhilaration. Cops tried to shoot at her, but their bullets did not harm her. People screamed when they saw her, but she ignored them. They were not worth the time for her to stop running around like a mad troll. This is what Gunmar's freedom meant to her; she was free to be herself.

Gunmar's freedom meant different things to others, though. She saw several changelings running around in the chaos, jaws, claws, and various weapons dripping in blood. Goblins were everything, smashing store windows to get inside or, in one case, driving a stolen police car. Gumm-Gumms were patrolling the streets wrecking cars and reaching in to grab the screaming occupants.

She was running down a street when a flash of purple gave her pause. She slowed down and looked at a puddle of blood. Purple changeling blood. There was a body next to it. At first, she thought that a human had gotten lucky and killed someone Nomura knew, but the more details she took in, the less likely that was.

Its chest cavity was opened, the ribs cracked exposed. Limbs laid in all directions, and Nomura noticed a pair of broken wings laid on the ground. The organs were gone. Nomura couldn't tell what color its skin was with all the blood, but a closer look confirmed that it was a jade color. Its head was still intact, but it was facing away from her. 

She felt her stomach drop as she noticed the feather knives lying all over the ground. And suddenly she didn't want to see the face of the Changeling in front of her. She backed up in terror, feeling the taste of bile at the back of her throat.

"I have to say, impure, he had more meat on his bones then I expected," Nomura heard Gunmar rumbled as he walked up behind her. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, and she fought the urge to knock it off. Bular joined them in surveying the body.

"Why would you do this? He served you for so long," she asked, her hands feeling numb. She tightened her grip on her swords to make sure she didn't lose them.

"He served his purpose," Gunmar explained, and she happened to look up to see that he was staring at her with his one good eye, something on his face that she couldn't read. He smiled with purple blood dripping down his jaw.

"So if a changeling is not useful, they are nothing more than food?" she asked. Her voice went a little higher as her heart started to race. "We will never be equals to you, will we?"

"Most trolls could never be my equal. I don't believe an impure could ever hope to be anything but... impure."

And she wanted to yell, wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to gather the remains and weep, but self-preservation told her that if she did _any_ of that, Gunmar would strike her down in a heartbeat. But then she looked to her right, in a window, and saw that the only thing it reflected was Gunmar, Bular, and the remains of her friend. She wasn't there.

Well, if she wasn't supposed to be there... _Fuck it_.

She brushed Gunmar's hand off her shoulder with force and walked several steps forward. When she turned around, she brought her blades up, letting the swords light up her face. Both bull trolls looked at her in shock, but Bular smirked and brought his sword out to his side. Gunmar recovered, and the Decimaar Blade formed in his right hand.

"Call me impure again," she challenged. "I dare you."


	4. Creepslayerz

Eli chooses to see what others won't. He chooses to understand what they can't comprehend. He chooses to grasp what they avoid. It is a gift. It is a burden. It is a calling.

He knew people disappeared all the time in Arcadia. People seem to quit their jobs with very little notice, and they were never heard from again. There were almost no stray cats or dogs. Eli had documented hundreds of strange footprints, smaller than a human's for the most part, but some that were the size of bicycle wheels. Scratch marks on trees and walls, so huge that they looked like a tiger left them. If people would just open their eyes and see the clues, they would know the truth. Eli was the only one to realize the danger that everyone, including himself, was actually in.

So when his astronomy club had canceled their trip to watch the Anthelion meteor shower, (Why? There would be a new moon that night, the viewing would be perfect!) Eli debated a long time if it was worth sneaking out and view the meteor shower by himself. His Mom always said she would kill him if she ever found him lurking out of the house after dark, but Eli was positive she was not as serious about killing him as the... _things_... that crept around Arcadia. If they caught him, he was toast. 

In the end, Eli's love of the stars won over self-preservation. He found himself climbing out of his bedroom window at one in the morning, deep in the woods by 2, and enjoying the peak of the shower at 3. It was 4, almost time to get home before the alarm in his room went off when he first heard the roars. Somehow, with shaking hands and weak knees, he ran towards the noise instead away from it, determined to capture the... _things_... on film.

There were two of them, one black and one blue, fighting in the canal. The black one had red eyes and two swords and the blue one wore armor and had a sword that threw off blue light when it was hit. Their skin looked like stone, and they had large teeth and fangs and claws that left large tears in each other and the cement of the bridge. He crept as close as he dared to the edge of the canal and then took several photos before either of them noticed he was there. They may decide that he was a big enough snack to stop fighting each other and break bread with his freshly-killed corpse. He ran back to his bike and rode home as fast as he could.

Back home, in his makeshift darkroom (really just his bathroom with a red light blub replacing the real one), he developed the film before the rest of the house started stirring. "Fudge knuckle," he cursed when all he sees is blurs and overexposed film when he gets to the photos of the... _things_... fighting. He is going to have to get creative if he wants to get some substantial evidence.

His Mom was delighted to see that he was up with eggs, toast, and a pot of coffee already made. She was not happy, however, to see him chugging a large mug himself. "Eli, you shouldn't have that, it will make you hyper."

"Sorry, Mom, didn't get much sleep. Don't want to fall asleep in class." Of course, she didn't need to know the real reason for his lack of sleep was the meteor shower and then watching the epic fight of the monsters.

"Well, you better head out. Don't want to make your friends wait," she said, kissing him on the forehead.

"Heh, yeah, fri-friends," he stammered. He got his helmet on and left the house, silently hoping that his mother never found out that Eli had no friends and would rather keep it that way.

* * *

At school, the coffee finally kicked in, and he found himself hyper and jittery in gym class. While Coach was busy berating poor Toby for getting tangled in the climbing rope, Eli started to talk to himself under his breath.

"Have to get pictures of the monsters. My camera doesn't have night vision. So I have to get one that does. How will I know where the monsters are? Have to cover the forest, at least. And the canal."

"Hey, Pepperjack, whatcha talking about?"

"OH! Oh, Seamus, didn't see you there." Eli started to rub his neck. He didn't mean for anyone to hear him. "Just... talking to myself."

"Well, I guess you would have to talk to yourself, Pepperjack, no one else would listen," Eli heard a voice say, and he felt his stomach drop when he recognized it. Not Steve, anyone other than him.

"H-hey Steve," Eli stammered as the taller teen sauntered up and put a foot on the bench so he could lean in. Logan walked up to Eli's left so that he couldn't go anywhere. "How are y-you today?"

"Doing better than you, buddy. You look like you have one too many energy drinks," Steve smirked. Ok, if Steve got bored with him, maybe Eli could get out of this without getting punched today.

"Heh, yeah, I had a large coffee, k-kinda overdid it. Didn't get much sleep last night," he explained.

"Oh, why not?" asked Steve. Eli wasn't sure why he would care, but he gave Steve a hesitant smile.

"Went out to see the meteor shower and then saw the monsters," Eli said, and then mentally cursed at himself when he saw the other boys exchange looks. He shouldn't have said that. Now he got their attention.

"Monsters, eh?" asked Steve, "You should tell me more."

"Palchuk! Pepperjack! Yer up!" shouted Coach, and both boys jumped up and grabbed a rope. Steve made it up the rope in record time, of course. Eli... well, Eli's arms gave out halfway up, and he fell back to the mat landing flat on his back, knocking the breath out of him.

"A shame. A crying shame," Coach said, standing over Eli as he moaned in pain. Steve had rung the bell and joined Coach in leering down at Eli.

"Sorry Coach," he finally groaned. "Didn't get much s-sleep last night."

* * *

Steve peppered Eli (Heh, _peppered_ him, _Pepperjack_ , Eli thought it was a good joke) with questions in the locker room. Still, Eli knew from experience that he wasn't interested, he was just getting ammunition to use against Eli. Eli tried to be brief in his answers, but he had a problem keeping his excitement in check as he described the... _things_... in detail. He attempted to clam up after the final bell rang and school was out, but Steve didn't like that.

Steve grabbed him and shoved him in a locker as Eli cried out. "Tell me about the creatures, and maybe I'll let you out," Steve taunted, smacking the locker door and making Eli's ears ring. "You were telling me about the monsters you saw this morning with fangs. And what was it again?" Another hit to the locker, making Eli cringe in the dark.

"Stone for skin. In the canal," Eli cried out. The others would call him crazy now, but what else was new? If he just answered Steve, maybe he would let Eli go.

"Dude, you've been a real braincase all morning," Eli heard a voice say. Who was that? Toby?

"What did you just call me, buttsnack?" Eli heard Steve ask, and Eli knew that tone in his voice. That was the tone of Steve getting ready to punch someone. Eli felt terrible that he was happy that it wasn't going to be him.

Eli heard Toby cry out in pain, and then Coach was yelling. "Palchuk, what's going on here?"

"Uh, nothing, sir," Steve stammered. Eli knew that Coach didn't see anything. The teachers never did.

"Why aren't you at practice?" asked Coach.

"I was helping Eli, here," and the door to the locker was finally opened. No one had stayed to help Eli. They never did. "He was stuck," lied Steve. 

"On the double!" yelled Coach, and Steve turned around to glare at Eli. "This isn't over, Pepperjack."

And with that, Eli was left alone, wondering why he wore the mantle of crazy genius who knew too much.

* * *

Eli was in bed that night, trying to fall asleep when the idea struck him. "That's it!"

* * *

The next day he walked up to Steve and his friends. He tried to appear confident as he greeted them, but his voice wavered as he nervously waved at them. "H-hey guys. What's u-up?"

"Pepperjack! See any monsters lately?" asked Steve. Logan and Seamus smirked and high-fived Steve like he just told the best joke in the world. Eli only apprehensively laughed along with them.

"That is what I wanted to talk to guys about today?" Eli coughed and winced as his voice broke. "Look, I know you guys don't believe me."

"Nope," was Steve's response.

"And I know you guys will want proof."

"Yep," Steve answered.

"And I think I found a way to get it," Eli said as he passed a piece of paper to Steve. Steve got a lost look on his face as he looked it over.

"What's a trail cam?" he asked.

"Hunters use them to take pictures of animals. They only go off when something goes in front of the camera. Some have night vision too!" Eli explained. He knew the boys would make fun of him for getting so excited, but he couldn't help it. "I can place several around town and not worry about being out at night when those... _things_... are out and about. I just need help getting the money."

Logan and Seamus smirked, but there was a look on Steve's face that Eli had never seen before. Something that made Eli think Steve was just excited for his discovery as Eli was. Steve looked at him after a minute of thought, however, with a wicked grin. "Trying to steal our lunch money Pepperjack?"

"No, look, I can make it worth your while. How about I do your homework for you? For money?" he explained.

That got the other boys' attention. He would do all the work if he were stuck with one of them for a group project, but for the most part, Eli had always refused to do their homework for them. Seamus scoffed. "I'm already getting an A in math class, Pepperjack. The _only_ A," he said.

"But, you need a paper for History, right?" Seamus looked thoughtful at that. "And Steve, I could get you into the play."

"Why would I want to do the play, Pepperjack?"

"I am the only boy who is going to try out in a couple of days. If you try out for Romeo, you're sure to get it. If you are Romeo, you could be the Spring Fling King." It stung to say it, but it was true. "Plus, Claire is probably going to be Juliet."

Steve started nodding. He rubbed his chin as he exchanged looks with his friends. "Alright, Pepperjack, I'm in. I'll help you find the creeps."

Creeps. Yes, that was it. That was the right word for the things Eli had seen. He stuck out his hand to shake Steve's and was slightly shocked when Steve shook his hand in a vise-like grip.

"Let's slay some creeps!" Eli cried out.

* * *

With Steve's and the others' help, Eli was able to afford his first four cameras about two weeks after Steve got the part of Romeo in the play. At this rate, he would have enough cameras to cover most of the forest, maybe even a few leftovers for the canal and his neighborhood. Eli and his family were out of the house that night when the delivery man tried to deliver the package, the tracking website told him as much. He hoped that the box would be waiting or him when he got home, but the only thing he found was one of those annoying "Sorry we missed you!" notes. It was while he was inspecting the note that he noticed something in the street.

It was a puddle of goo with legs and arms lying in the middle of the street. Not as big as the creeps Eli had seen before, green, with only a tuft of hair on what Eli thought was the head. It was hard to say with it being liquified like that. The tire mark down its back pointed to the cause of death. Creeps evidently didn't know about looking both ways before crossing the street.

Eli was so excited to have proof that he took a selfie with the goo and barely slept that night. Soon he would have a picture of a big one, something that no one could deny as evidence of dangerous creatures running around unchecked in Arcadia. Soon they would _have_ to listen to him!

* * *

No one was listening to him.

He was excited to go to the museum the next day. Miss Nomura seemed nice, and the museum was full of cool stuff. Eli let his excitement get the better of him, and he tried sharing his discovery with his classmates. They were not impressed.

"At first, I thought it was an alien. Definitely not human," he was telling the others, showing off the picture on his phone. "It some sort of monster!" he cried, as the others rolled their eyes and huffed.

"Come on, give it up, Eli," Margaret said as she walked off.

He was moping over the picture when the class moved over to the taco truck across the street when Steve found him and clapped a hand on Eli's shoulder, causing Eli to wince. "What's the matter, Pepperjack? Did they cancel that Star Wars show you like so much?"

Eli opened his mouth to argue but just closed it again. It was no use. No one believed him. But it wasn't _fair_. He had photographic evidence. What would he have to do to get anyone to believe him? Catch a live one?

Steve suddenly saw his phone and grabbed it. "Whoa," he loudly whispered, "what is that?" And he got a weird look on his face, one that Eli had glimpsed before. Excitement mixed with wonder. Eli questioned if Steve was messing with him, but the interest seemed genuine.

"It's a creep, not as big as the other ones," explained Eli as Steve zoomed in on the goo. "It was outside my house last night. It may still be there." Maybe that is what it would take, getting a sample and sending it to... Eli wasn't sure where to send it. Area 49-B, maybe? They could say if it was terrestrial or not.

"Maybe I was wrong about you, Pepperjack," Steve said, that excited look still on his face. "Maybe you are onto something."

Suddenly Mr. Strickler leaned over Steve's shoulder and grabbed Eli's phone. "What are you gentlemen looking at?" he asked in a light tone, but something in his voice made the hairs on the back of Eli's neck stand up.

"Just some... _thing_... that was outside my house last night, Mr. Strickler," he explained. Mr. Strickler started to run his fingers across the screen quickly, probably to zoom in on the goo as well. But suddenly, Eli heard the sound alert that the picture had been deleted instead.

"Oops, so terrible with technology these days," Mr. Strickler said cooly as he passed the phone back to Eli. But Eli had a feeling he knew exactly what he was doing.

"What the heck?! You deleted it," Steve cried, more upset than Eli thought he would be. 

"It's ok, S-steve," Eli said while putting a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Probably someone's poor cat." Steve gave him a look as Eli quickly lead him away. Mr. Strickler watched them go with a weird smile on his face. Eli was going to have to keep an eye on him.

"It's ok," Eli whispered so only Steve could hear him. "Come over to my house tonight; we can talk about it then."

"Dude, I don't know where you _live_."

Eli sighed and gestured for Steve's phone. Steve did so reluctantly but allowed Eli to program his number and address into the phone.

"Tonight Steve, when it's safe," Eli explained, throwing a nervous glance in Mr. Strickler's direction. Mr. Strickler seemed to be looking at his nails, but somehow Eli had a feeling that he was intensely listening to the two teens. "Just... be careful in the dark, ok?"

* * *

It was after dark when the delivery man finally came with the package. Eli raced to the door before his Mom could. "Yes! My trail cams have arrived!" he shouted excitedly while giving a small jump. He grabbed the box and heard pieces rattling. "Unassembled!"

The delivery man asked to use the bathroom, and Eli was not able to say no in time, so he had to escort him there and back to the front door. When Eli opened it, Steve had parked his Vespa and was taking off his helmet. The delivery van was nowhere in sight, but Eli was too excited to care. He ushered Steve inside and closed the door on the delivery man's face while he was still talking.

Eli guided Steve quickly to Eli's bedroom before his Mom could see them. He had Steve sit on the bed while he lowered the lights and grabbed a flashlight to shine on his face for dramatic effect. He had been rehearsing this speech for a while now.

"For years, I suspected, and for years, I waited... patiently. Then, one fateful night, I saw them." He turned the flashlight so that Steve was caught in its beam.

"Saw what?" Steve asked, shielding his eyes.

Eli removed the glowing poster from the wall and revealed the board. _Arcadia_ was written on the top with a red string leading to the words _Aliens, Trolls_ , and _Wizards?_ scattered throughout the board. Pictures of the footprints, UFOs, scratch marks, new articles of missing people, heck, even missing pet posters littered the board. Steve stared in awe.

"Arcadia is a hotbed of supernatural activity," Eli continued. "Some confirmed, some I've yet to scratch the surface of." He turned, so he was facing Steve. " _Yes_. Right now, I've got more questions than answers. But with the right proof, so many possibilities will open to us."

Steve's knees gave out on him, and he sat slowly on the floor. "W-wh-wha-what? Are you kidding me? This is nuts-oid. Wh-why haven't you told anybody?!"

"I did," Eli said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. "You shoved me into a locker." Steve looked kind of ashamed of that fact.

"There's a whole other world beneath our feet we know nothing about. Creatures living in shadow..." Eli suddenly thought of Mr. Strickler's odd behavior, the people who went missing. "...monsters living amongst us. But what do they want?! Are they friends?"

"Or... not friends?" Steve finished for him.

Steve looked thoughtful for a moment, Eli knowing he couldn't rush the bigger teen into connecting the dots. It meant so much to Eli that Steve was at least here and willing to listen.

"You said with the right proof. That is what the cams are for, right?" Steve asked.

Eli nodded, and he gestured to the trail cams that were in pieces on his desk. "No one believes me, but I feel that a clear picture of one of them will be enough to get people to listen to me."

Steve suddenly stood and clapped a hand on Eli's shoulder. "Get people to listen to us, you mean, Pepperbuddy." Eli broke out into a wide grin.

* * *

The next few weeks were the busiest and happiest Eli could remember ever having. He fixed the first set of trail cams and placed them in the forest. Almost if the gods were smiling on them, they caught something a week later.

"What are they?" Steve asked in awe. It was three of the small ones, pill-shaped bodies and long limbs, eyes glowing, the whole picture in shades of green as they climbed the trees. Eli shooked his head. "Not sure. The small ones are new."

"Well, this is it! This is the proof! Let's tell someone. Your Mom! My Mom! Coach!" Steve said, but Eli couldn't share in his excitement.

"We need more proof, Steve. Make it so no one can doubt that the creeps are real."

"So more trail cams?" asked Steve.

"More trail cams."

* * *

With more trail cams, Eli focused on the forest around the canal. The creeps didn't seem to realize what the cameras were, or if they knew what they were, they didn't care. A week and a half after their first success, they caught another one.

"WHAT IS THAT!?" Steve almost screeched.

"The big one," Eli replied. The black one from before. It seemed like the meanest one of all. The picture didn't give it justice because you couldn't see the red eyes glowing, but it did have its two swords out.

"Tell me this is proof!" Steve said.

"Almost."

* * *

A few days later, they caught the one with armor in a picture, on the same camera, like this one was looking for the mean one. Only, Eli didn't remember the one with armor having stones coming out of his (her?) back. Or the oversized horns. Maybe there was more than one with the armor.

"THEY HAVE FLIPPING ARMOR!?" Steve did yell this time. Eli didn't even try to make him quiet; his Mom already knew that Steve was visiting. Almost every day.

"One of the ones I saw fighting before had armor," Eli explained.

"Is this enough proof for you? Eli? Tell me this is enough proof for you! ELI?!"

* * *

"Hey, Pepperjack?"

"Yeah, Steve?"

"Can the creeps, you know, fly?"

Eli paused in reviewing the pictures taken by the cams for a moment to consider the question. He had never _seen_ one with wings. But they all seemed so different that there was the possibility that one could fly. "I don't know. Why?"

"I was driving around the hills on my Vespa, you know, checking out Lake's new ride, and I heard a screech. And a flapping noise? Lake didn't hear it, but I don't know, it sounded _huge_. Can they fly?"

"Fly? In daylight? I hope not." Eli gulped. "That would be... _bad."_

* * *

It took several more weeks, dozens and dozens of pictures, of the big ones, small ones, the armored one, the mean one, even a slim one with dual swords and long hair, dates, times, and locations of each photo. Finally. _Finally_ , Eli felt they had enough to go to someone. It was just time to figure out who.

"Coach?"

"Not sure if we can trust the teachers." Not Strickler, at least.

"Our parents?"

"Who would they go to? If they believed us."

"Claire's mom?"

Eli broke out into a grin. "That's brilliant, Steve!"

"What can I say, I'm one smart dude."

* * *

 _Romeo and Juliet_ went off without a hitch. Eli had to do some significant coaching with Steve to make sure he didn't step all over Claire's lines, and Steve couldn't help but smirk when Claire went in for the final kiss, but otherwise, it wasn't a complete mess. During the after-party, Eli approached Claire.

"Great job Claire!" he told her. She gave him a small smile in return.

"Thanks, Eli," she said, sparing a glance at Steve. "It went better than I thought it would." She gave him a bigger grin. "You two have gotten close in the last few weeks, huh?"

"Huh, y-yeah," he stammered. "I have been tutoring Steve and, well, I guess we just have been clicking the last few weeks."

Eli glanced at Steve in his plastic armor, and Steve started jerking his head towards Claire. Eli thought he was having a stroke until it finally clicked for him. "Oh? OH! Claire, can I ask a question?"

"Sure, Eli."

"C-can I talk to your Mom about something? It's something that affects the safety of the town?"

Claire gave him a weird look. "Sure, I can see if I can get you a meeting. It may be next week, though. She's about to start campaigning and doesn't care about you unless you can vote," Claire said, almost bitterly.

"Well, I just need ten minutes of her time. It's really important. Earthshattering even."

* * *

A few nights later, Eli was sleeping in his bed, fully clothed when he woke up to what sounded like an elephant herd running through his neighborhood. He fell off his bed and scrambled to his front door just in time to see the armored one running after the slim one. She was magenta while the armored one was blue. The blue one roared as they continued into the city. "I knew it!" he cried. They were fighting! The town was in danger!

Holy shish kabobs, the town was in danger.

He jumped unto his bike and then raced after them. Over the canal and into the deserted streets of Arcadia. Why?! Why would he do this.

Because someone had to stop the creeps, and if no one believed him, then it had to be him.

He saw the big one throw the small one into an alley, and he stopped the bike and crept to the mouth to spy on them. He was shocked when he heard them talking.

"Just follow me for five more minutes! You can see the Bridge with your own eyes." The voice was high and feminine. Was it the smaller one? Was the big one beating up on a girl?

"No!" Eli jumped at the roar. "I will not play your game!"

"It's not a game!" she screamed back. It sounded so desperate and sad. "I thought you being the Trollhunter would mean you would finally have some honor!"

In the following silence, Eli considered what the magenta one said. Trollhunter? So, he was the good guy? Hunting bad ones? Eli could hear the big one talking again, although much softer than before.

"I always thought that if I were to be the Trollhunter after my father, I would ignore the 'answer every call' Bushigal that Blinky was still going on about."

There was the sound of a police siren nearby, and Eli almost missed what he said next. "Alright, I will follow you. Tomorrow night."

"Why tomorrow night?" she asked. 

"I wish to search for Bular more this evening. I haven't checked the sewers," he explained. Eli scrambled to make sure he was out of the way when the big one walked out of the alley. He waited to make sure the other one wasn't going to follow. A few minutes later, she walked out of the alley as well, although with a limp. She had a cell phone up to one ear.

"Yeah, he will be at the museum—tomorrow night. We can set the trap then," and she paused and sniffed the air. Eli covered his mouth to make sure she couldn't hear him whimper.

Someone said something on the phone, and she broke out in a broad smile and turned away from Eli. "Easy on the compliments, Strickler. A girl could get a big head."

 _Strickler!_ Eli was right.

Nomura turned off the phone and sighed. Her ear picked up on the sound of a retreating bicycle, but she ignored it. Even if they heard or saw something, who would believe them?

* * *

Eli could barely wait for the sun to be up before calling Steve. Steve could scarcely follow what Eli was saying over the phone, so Eli begged Steve to meet him at Eli's house. It took Eli several minutes to get Steve up to speed, but once he did, Steve got an apprehensive look on his face.

"This is bad. The bad ones are going to trap the good one."

"I don't know. Yes? I guess? If the armored one is the good one?"

Steve looked like he was deep in thought. Or he was in an enormous amount of pain. Sometimes Eli couldn't tell which one. "We will go to the police. With everything. They have to believe us."

"I don't know Steve," Eli winced as his voice broke. "It may not be enough."

"It has to be enough Pepperbuddy," Steve told him while grabbing his shoulder. "It just has to be."

* * *

They made it to the police station after lunch, but the cops kept them waiting all afternoon for a detective. The police let them keep their bats with them, however, which made Eli feel so much better. They had agreed to let Steve do all the talking, so when Detective Scott finally called them into his office, Steve went first.

"First of all, sir, your daughter is hot," Steve said with a smile. Eli only smacked himself on the forehead while Detective Scott's face fell from a smile into a glare.

Eli sighed and tried to rally. He gave Detective Scott the file folder full of photos, each with a number that corresponded with a list of dates, times, and locations. Eli tried to keep himself from getting too excited and decided to stick to the facts. There were creeps in Arcadia, here was the proof, they were not crazy, and they were not trying to trick anyone.

"Tell him about the conversation you heard!" Steve said while nudging Eli. Eli grimaced. He didn't know if the detective would believe that Eli was lucky to overhear two of them talking.

"Well, I saw two running through my neighborhood this morning, so I followed them, and it sounds like one is trapping the other in the museum? Tonight?" he said uncertainly.

Detective Scott gave him a look that made Eli shift in his seat. He couldn't tell if the adult believed him or not. After the detective looked over the file folder again, he smiled at the smaller teen.

"This is a pretty good investigation, kiddo. Very thorough. I may have to see those trail cams in person, though, just to make sure the photos aren't doctored."

"S-so, you believe us?" Eli stammered.

"Well, I would like to think you boys are smart enough to not through all this trouble just to fool the police," Detective Scott gave Steve a pointed look. "So I will look into these... creeps. I promise." He gathered up all the papers and had the file folder under one arm as he got up. "It's dark outside, would you boys like a ride home?"

"Yes, please!" Eli said. He was so happy that someone believed him. Finally, someone believed him. Maybe they had stopped whatever the creeps were planning.

They were making their way out of the station when the ground shook. The detective stopped them. "Whoa, now... maybe you two should stay in here."

"What is it? Is it the creeps?" Eli almost shouted.

"Now, it is probably a quake. Not a big one by the feel of it, but there could be aftershocks."

Suddenly, the phones started ringing all at once. Detective Scott gestured to the bench in the lobby and ushered the boys to it. "Sit here, for now, you two. I will get you home after I put out a couple of fires."

Eli and Steve waited for the detective to get back, but several minutes turned into 30, which turned into an hour when the calls kept coming in. From the sound of it, the police were getting reports of creatures all over town, and it sounded like they were not nice ones. Some of the officers were even disappearing after leaving the station. Detective Scott and the others started to run out. "What is it?" Steve called out.

"Something at the museum! You two stay put!" Detective Scott yelled over his shoulder.

Eli was more than happy to obey, but Steve couldn't stay still. He started to pace the lobby.

"We should be out there, Pepperjack!" Steve grabbed a bat and started swinging it. "We could be hurting some creeps right now. Just slaying them!"

"I don't know Steve. We warned the police. We did what we could."

"But don't you just, you know, want to help?"

Eli thought about it. "Alright, let's go."

* * *

They made it to the museum and paused behind an underturned car. There were police cars in front of the entrance of the museum but no officers that Eli could see. Were they all inside?

"Ok, Steve, I think this is close enough. We should head home. Our parents will be worried." Eli tried to tug on Steve's arm to get him to go back.

"No, Pepperjack, we should make sure those creeps don- LOOK!"

Eli looked to the entrance of the museum to see dozens of creeps making their way out. They had armor and spears and were glowing green. Two more came after them, the black one and one that was even bigger somehow, although Eli couldn't imagine how.

"Steve, Steve, SteveSteveSteveSteve, let's go, let's go, let's goooooo...." Eli pulled on Steve with all his might, but the larger teen wouldn't budge.

"We can't just go, Eli; someone has to stay and fight." And without further discussion, Steve was running across the street to meet them head-on.

Eli spent the next few minutes agonizing over what to do. Knowing about the creeps was one thing. Fighting them? Oh no, that was different. 

When he saw one of creeps flying off screeching, he could almost make out Steve's voice. "Oh yeah? You want a piece of this, too? Wooo-hoo!"

Eli ran, and he didn't stop until he collapsed in front of his front door.


	5. Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost called this chapter "The Two Bastards" because these two trolls gave me so much trouble writing this chapter. My apologies for the length of this chapter and how long it took to write.

Bular roared. He growled and cursed and hit the ground with his fists. He paced and snorted. But no matter how much noise he made, the Amulet stayed where it was. It remained on the pile of stone that was the former Trollhunter.

Damn the Tollhunter. Defiant to the end. Bular could have admired the gesture if Kanjigar had not used it against him. If Kanjigar had just yielded, Bular would have made his end quick.

No, that wasn't true. Kanjigar had been a thorn in his side for far too long, Bular would have taken his time in dispatching the Trollhunter. But Kanjigar had done the unthinkable and left the Amulet somewhere where Bular could not reach it.

In the sun. 

Bular snorted one last time before he dropped from the overpass and made his way to the forest using shadows to protect himself. The Amulet wasn't going anywhere for now. Maybe Bular should call Stricklander, have an impure pick it up. Wasn't running around during the day the only thing they were good for anyway?

No, Stricklander would rub it in Bular's face that he couldn't reach the Amulet. Best to wait for nightfall and grab it personally. Then he could tell Father that he, and he alone, retrieved it to open Killahead Bridge. 

The traffic was picking up on the overpass above the canal as Bular settled in some thick undergrowth that would protect him all day from the sun. He dimly heard the sound of a young human crying out to his companion as they rode, what were they called? Bye-sickles? "Final bell! We're so late our kids are gonna have detention!"

Stupid humans. Just one more day and he would have the Amulet, and once the impures had the Bridge together, Father would be free. Finally, he would have lived to Father's expectations, the humans would fall before them, and the surface world would be theirs. Bular would have his birthright.

He would live up to his legacy.

* * *

Draal stood in the Forge in the Trollhunter armor. How weird it was to wear it. It had always looked so large and imposing on his Father. But when he first called upon it, it sunk to fit Draal's frame. It even accommodated the stones on his back. The sword was so light. He had trained with so many weapons in his lifetime, but never imagined that Daylight would be this weightless. He smiled down at the weapon in his hand.

The smile was short-lived as he looked around in the empty Forge. He wanted to go to Vendel or Blinky and ask how he could go into the Void and speak to his Father. Only he knew what they would say. "The Void will call when they are ready for you." They being the Trollhuntrs that came before.

Trollhunter. He was the Trollhunter. He had always dreamed and hoped that he would follow in his Father's footsteps. Live his Father's life. But he didn't think he would feel this adrift. So scared of the unknown. 

He squared his shoulders. He knew one thing for sure; He _will_ defeat Bular. He _will_ protect Trollmarket from the last Gumm-Gumm on the surface. He _will not_ do anything else until he dispatched Bular, Blinky be damned.

He would live up to his legacy.

* * *

Bular limped his way through the streets. He wasn't sure when he found out where the impure lived, but Bular paused ever so often to sniff the air to make sure he was heading in the right direction. He found Stricklander's car in a parking lot outside of an a-part-ment building. There was a metal structure hanging off one side of the building that allowed Bular to climb even as it groaned under his weight. Once he made it up to the fourth floor, he tapped on the glass of the window with the curtain drawn. No response. He tapped louder with one talon, trying to ensure that he didn't break the glass. Still no answer. He growled to himself and started to pound on the window's frame.

Finally, Stricklander tore open the curtains but yelled and fell back when he caught sight of Bular's hulking form filling up the entire window. Despite his foul mood Bular smiled to himself as Stricklander picked himself up from the floor. Stricklander opened the window and leaned his torso out. "What are you doing, you bloody idiot? Do you want to be _seen_?" he hissed.

"I defeated Kanjigar this morning," Bular said with no preamble. Stricklander rolled his eyes as he looked towards the ground to make sure no one was watching from the street.

"Yes, I know, it's the sole thing the goblins would talk about all day long," said Stricklander. He stopped surveying the ground and looked at Bular. "Is that why you are here? Did you get the Amulet? Where is it?"

Bular grimaced, already knowing what Stricklander's response would be. "Kanjigar, the noble fool, fell into the sunlight so I couldn't reach it. It disappeared before I could get it from his remains."

Stricklander blinked slowly at him for several moments before he seemed to regain some of his wits. "You _lost_ it?" Stricklander said in a disbelieving tone. " _You_ failed. _You_ let it go." Bular snorted. He didn't need the impure calling attention to Bular's failure. "Your father will be displeased," finished Stricklander, and Bular roared in response, eyes glowing.

All around them, lights were being turned on, and Bular could hear windows opening. Stricklander pointed to the roof with a scowl, and Bular climbed the last two stories to the top of the building. He paced back in forth in frustration until Stricklander joined him, looking calm and collected with his hands folded behind his back as he closed the door to the building's stairs behind him.

"We will just have to find out who now holds the Amulet and get rid of them as well. If we are fortunate, the Trollhunter will be as weak as Unkar," Stricklander continued cooly. It was then Stricklander noticed Bular limping. "What happened to you?"

Bular barked a bitter laugh. "I know who the Trollhunter is. We fought." He paused in his pacing and turned to Stricklander. "It's Draal."

Stricklander snorted. "Excellent. Wonderful. Draal the Deadly. He's only been training to be the bloody Trollhunter _his entire life_." Stricklander pinched the top of his nose as a headache started to form.

"It does not matter," he growled, dropping to all fours and stalking in front of Stricklander. Stricklander, to his credit, did not flinch. " _Whoever_ holds the Amulet of Merlin, I shall destroy him, just as I have done with every _single_ one of them."

"See that you do," Stricklander growled back, and he turned to go back to the stairs. Bular snorted. How dare the impure try to tell him what to do.

* * *

Draal stalked through Trollmarket. How dare Blinky try to tell him what to do. He knew what he was doing. He and Bular had fought twice already, and Bular was not going to win. Draal could feel it. He was too fast for the Gumm-Gumm, and Bular always retreated. Bular just knew the surface better than Draal did, so he knew where to hide. Draal would be victorious. Maybe then he would be called into the Void and finally talk to his Father.

A troll grabbed his arm as he passed the bar. He glared until the troll let go. "Come join us, Draal. We miss your stories!"

"No, thanks," he responded. He tried to turn and walk away, but the troll grabbed his arm again.

"Please, Draal, just one mug of glug! It won't hurt-"

"I said, no thank you," he growled.

"Please, you need t-"

Draal roared in the troll's face, and he finally backed off. "I need to get the Gumm-Gumm that killed my father, what do you not understand about that!?" The crowd around them hushed, and everyone was staring as Draal panted. Draal finally noticed Vendel in the back of the group, a scowl on his face. Draal just snorted and turned away. He needed to get to the surface and find Bular.

* * *

Bular walked through the alleys of Arcadia, keeping to the shadows. Ordinarily, he would not be out before the sun went down, but the possibility of Draal attacking made Bular think he should only move around during the day for safety. He snorted. If Stricklander knew Bular had changed his routine, he would ask if Bular was afraid of facing the Trollhunter. He was not. He was only waiting for the right time to meet Draal in a battle to rout him completely.

He was walking through a construction zone when he could hear the sound of screaming and retreating bye-sickles. Had he been spotted? He started to move towards the sound but hissed and cursed when his fist hit sunlight. He waited a moment for the sun to go down before running after the sound of screaming.

After rounding a corner, he found a deserted street and empty parked cars. He sniffed the air and caught a scent: fear and hormones. The teen-agers Stricklander taught at the school had that smell. Usually with less anxiety.

Bular started to knock cars and trucks out of the way. He snarled and snorted as the smell got stronger. He picked up on the sound of whispering and zeroed in on it. He lifted a box truck with both arms, fully expecting to see two young humans, but saw nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He panted for a bit and then threw the truck in frustration. Either they had gotten away, or Bular had imagined things. He paused and then hit the side of his head sharply. No pixie emerged.

"I'll flay the flesh from your bones!" Bular heard his own voice say, moving away from him down the street.

"I like my bones the way they are. Thanks!" Bular heard a young human voice respond.

Bular hit his head again and grunted. He couldn't concern himself with visions right now. He had bigger Nyalagroths to roast.

He ran towards the woods as he heard humans gathering in the street behind him to look at the damage he had caused. Stricklander did not need to know about this. It would just give him more to gripe over.

* * *

Draal jumped from platform to platform in the Forge. Since Aaarrrgghh!! refused to train with him, he had to resort to training by himself. He ran along with the rotating platforms, knocking the stone dummies before they could shoot fire at him. He rolled out of the way of giant blades. He destroyed the cannonballs before they could hit him. It was getting to be too predictable, too easy to know from where the threats were coming. He needed someone to train with, to keep himself sharp.

Draal hit the kill switch, and the Forge started to power down. Not that he was complaining. He had fought Bular several times in the last few weeks, and he was slowly chipping away at the Gumm-Gumm defenses. He would avenge his Father; it was just a matter of time. 

Draal watched as the Soothscryer was the last mechanism to disappear. Draal didn't know much of the magical machine, except it was needed to speak to Trollhunters who were in the Void. Draal snorted. He wondered when his Father would call for him. He wished to talk to him.

He was leaving when he heard a voice cry out. Draal froze. He looked around and tested the air. His senses were telling him that he was utterly alone. But if he was, from where did that voice come? He hit the side of his head and growled. It was not a vision from a pixie.

Wait, what had it said? Difinently his name. It was not Trollish, that much was certain. And the voice didn't seem like a troll's.

Was that a human speaking?

Draal slowly backed out of the Forge, trying not to breath unless he missed another outburst. When he was out of the Forge, he let his armor drop and made his way through Trollmarket. He knew of only one troll that spoke several human languages. He wanted to know what the voice had said.

As he walked, some trolls greeted him, but most kept their distance. His outbursts and general lousy attitude insured most trolls avoided him. He didn't mind. He wanted to focus on fighting Bular, and if being in a horrible mood meant he didn't have to "answer every call," so be it.

He made his way to the lower levels of Trollmarket, eventually finding a sign made of discarded car parts that spelled out "Robarath's Fine Weapons and Machines." He let himself into the crowded shop of swords, spears, prosthetic arms, peg legs, fake eyes, hammers, axes, and other brick-a-brack. Robarath's pet gnome babbled from the counter and then ran to the back, Robarath's workshop and forge. He worked with the human's abandoned metal to make all kinds of useful items. Robarath had been one of his Father's oldest and dearest friends. Draal had visited many times when they first made their way to the New World and settled here, finding natural heat vents that served as Robarath's bellows. If he had not been training to be the Trollhunter, he may have become Robarath's apprentice and learned to forge these items himself.

Draal was looking at a fake arm when Robarath walked into the front of the shop, wiping his hands on his leather apron. He was a little taller than Draal, with red skin and gleaming black horns that curled back over white hair. He had lost both his left arm and right leg in the Battle of Killahead Bridge and had replaced them with prosthetics that match his black horns. Robarath liked to joke that they were the best advertising he had ever made. He had a few soot and burn marks along his arms and back, but if they hurt, Robarath showed no pain.

"Do you like it?" he asked Draal, pointing to the bronze arm Draal was inspecting. It was an excellent machine, Draal could see that much.

"It will make a fine replacement for whoever may lose their arm," said Draal, putting it back on the shelf. "But I doubt that I will ever need it."

"Pity," joked Robarath. "You would make me famous. The forge master who made an arm for Draal the Deadly, Trollhunter."

Robarath finally came in for a hug, and Draal awkwardly hugged back. Robarath chuckled and walked around the counter, his gnome continuing to count socks, Draal assumed it was the shop's earnings. "What can I do for the Trollhunter, this fine day?"

"I heard..." Draal paused. How could he explain what he had heard? "I thought I heard a voice in the Forge." Draal would be honest with the older troll. Robarath would not judge him. "I did not understand what it said, but I did recognize it saying my name. I was hoping you could translate the rest."

Robarath hummed and reached under the counter. He brought out a pipe made of metal and a pouch of dried mushrooms. "It has been a long time since I have talked to a human, mind you," he explained as he filled the pipe. "But I can do my best. What did it say?"

"Low sea-ento see-nore Draal," Draal said, closing his eyes to recall the last bit. "No may ma-tes."

"Hrrrmmm." Robarath lit his pipe with a small flame that came out of a metal finger. A beautiful machine indeed. He rubbed his chin and puffed for a few minutes. "Sounds like Spanish."

"Spanish?" asked Draal.

Robarath nodded. "A language from a country the humans called Spain. Most of us know English because that was Merlin's language of choice." He reached for a piece of paper and started to write something down. The gnome looked at the sheet and started to laugh. Robarath turned it around and showed it to Draal:

_¡Lo siento, Señor Draal! ¡No me mates!_

Draal looked at the human lettering but could not make any sense of it. He glared at Robarath until the red troll smiled. "I believe the Amulet can help you, lad."

"It can?" asked Draal, surprised. He brought it out and turned it towards the paper. He was astounded to see the letters on the page turn into Trollish. Robarath chuckled. "It was a feature built into the Amulet by Merlin. He figured that if the Trollhunter swore to protect humans, they would have to communicate at some point with them. Didn't Blinky tell you this?"

"I have been avoiding Blinky," explained Draal as he read the translated page:

_I'm sorry, Mister Draal! Do not kill me!_

"Looks like your voice is asking for mercy," Robarath joked. "According to the rumors I have been hearing, it could have been anyone in Trollmarket at this point."

Draal snorted in embarrassment. Robarath just chuckled again. "What's the matter, lad? Hellheeti got your tongue?"

Draal growled. "Don't you start with that 'answer every call' bushigal. I would think you would of all trolls would understand that killing Bular comes first."

Robarath held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender. "Whoa now, lad, I am just pointing out something I think you should know." He leaned over the counter, and Draal had to fight the urge to step back. "Your father was loved by all Trolls for being their champion. Whether that meant fighting Gumms-Gumms or a tiny, rouge gnome." Draal growled. Damn Bagdwella for telling everyone that it was Blinky and Aaarrrgghh!! who killed the rouge gnome when Draal refused to. Robarath's gnome hissed at Draal, although Draal wasn't sure it was because of its brethren's demise or he shirking his responsibility.

"Your father also realized the value of good counsel. I know he liked to act like he was all on his own, but in reality, he leaned on Blinky and Vendel more than you know. And they will better serve you than me, an old, crazy troll."

Draal barked out a laugh. "You are anything but crazy, Robarath."

"Of course I am," Robarath replied and grabbed his gnome in the prosthetic hand. It chattered angrily and tried to chew the fake hand. "I have a pet gnome; I'm the craziest troll ever." He let go of the mad gnome, and it ran up his arm to kick at his nose. Robarath just laughed in response.

Draal smiled for the first time in weeks. He sobered, though. "The only counsel I wish to have is my Father. But he has not called from the Void."

Robarath also lost his good cheer and looked sadly at Draal. "Give it time, lad."

Draal nodded and took the paper. "Thank you, Robarath. I will try to visit more."

"See that you do, lad," replied Robarath. He moved the gnome back down to the counter. "Although I don't want to see you until you need that arm. What? Think of the advertising, lad. I would be swimming in socks."

* * *

Bular carefully made his way through the museum to the wing that held the Bridge, his limp more pronounced than ever. He was also having trouble moving his left arm, although he was trying to hide it. Stricklander was already there leaning on a large crate, with a smaller opened container next to him. Stricklander was scrutinizing a piece of the Bridge. "You're late," he said without looking up.

Bular just growled and snatched the stone from the impure. He sighed as Stricklander smoothly picked up a red apple and started to inspect it, just as he did with the piece. Bular turned to the Bridge, and the part floated into place and joined the rest. It magically sealed itself, and the section glowed blue for a moment as the changeling and the troll watched. 

"Killahead Bridge will soon be complete," Stricklander said, still holding the apple. Now only a small section was missing from the middle. "Our man from Germany will be arriving with more pieces soon."

Bular smiled to himself. "And my father will know freedom and glory."

"Yes, he will," Stricklander said with a smirk. "Once you acquire the Amulet."

Bular rumbled at the impure. He knew what Stricklander was implying. Draal was more aggressive than Kanjigar had been. It was just taking Bular longer to find a weakness. He was not hiding from Draal. He was just waiting for the right moment to strike. He would not be the reason that his Father had to remain in the Darklands once the impures finished the Bridge. He would get the Amulet, no matter the cost.

"Hey!" yelled a human voice behind them. Both troll and changeling turned around to see a guard at the curtain. "What are you doing in here?" The guard gasped and shuddered when he caught sight of monstrous Bular fully in the beam of the flashlight. The flashlight dropped, and the guard started to run. Bular rounded on the impure.

"You called him here?" For all his talk of staying hidden, Bular couldn't believe Stricklander would let a human see them like this.

"Of course not," Stricklander said as he lifted the apple with no concern on his face. "I brought you a midnight snack," Stricklander drawled as he raised one eyebrow.

Bular growled in annoyance. Usually, he would relish the opportunity to hunt a human without getting a lecture from the impure. But with his injuries, even chasing a defenseless human seemed like too much work. He dropped to all fours, however, and started to run after the guard. He heard the crunch behind him as Stricklander bit into the apple.

As Bular roared, catching up to the human trying to unlock the front door, he realized that Stricklander was using him to exterminate this particular human. _Did the guard anger Stricklander?_ Wondered Bular as the guard dropped his keys. _Was the human asking questions about the Bridge?_ Bular mused as he grabbed the guard by the throat. _Is this killing essential to further their mission?_ He pondered as he felt bones breaking in his hands. He wasn't sure of the answers to any of the questions, but he was confident that he didn't like being used by the impure like this.

Bular was going to have to make sure that he didn't fall for the impure's tricks anymore.

* * *

Draal made his way through Trollmarket. He had made an effort to be friendlier in the past few weeks, to follow Robarath's advice, but he noticed that most trolls gave him a wide berth. He came to an archway shaped to look like a troll. Ahead, Blinky and Aaarrrgghh!! waited in front of RotGut's entrance. 

"Ah, Draal, so good to see you!" greeted Blinky with false cheer. Aaarrrgghh!! just looked nervous and shifted from fist to fist.

"Blinky," greeted Draal back, trying to keep his voice light. He didn't say anything farther and waited until Blinky got uncomfortable and cleared his throat.

"You see, Draal, we asked you to be here for a matter of utmost importance," resumed Blinky. Aaarrrgghh!! looked at Draal and shook his head slightly as if to say _I didn't ask, the crazy one did._ Blinky caught the look that they share and glared. "RotGut has asked for help in a delicate matter, but wants the Trollhunter present while we talk."

"Just make this quick Blinky, I'm burning moonlight," Draal said. Blinky gave a short nod and turned to the door. He hit the door knocker, and a small door opened to reveal one eye. "Ailment or curse?" the eye asked.

A smaller door slammed open, and a second eye appeared. "Oi, numbskull! I'm supposed to answer it!"

"But I already did answer it," said the first eye.

The second eye glared at the first. "What is not clear about 'I deal with the customers,'" the second door slammed in Blinky's face. "'You handle the wizardry?'" the voice continued muffled.

The first eye looked at Blinky. "Hold a tick," it said before the first door closed. Blinky turned around and gave a nervous laugh to Draal.

The second small door reopened. "Good, Rot. Stick with that," said Gut, and then he looked at Blinky. "Welcome to RotGut's. How may we service you?"

"My fine fellow, we are here to inquire about the voices?" Blinky was finally able to ask. Draal, who had been reviewing his last several fights with Bular mentally and speculating on the Gumm-Gumm's weaknesses, perked up at the mention of voices.

"Oh, yes," said Gut. "Was about, oh, I would say, two days ago? Heard a knock on the door and opened up to nothing. But we could hear voices."

"What did they say?" asked Aaarrrgghh!!.

The first door opened. "They were talking about gaggletacks," explained Rot. Gut rolled his eyes (or at least the single eye you could see) and muttered something about "Wanker never listens."

"Funny thing though," Gut continued in a louder tone, "they only spoke in Human."

"English," Rot corrected.

"Human English," Gut said.

"Did they ever use Spanish?" asked Draal. All the other trolls looked at him in surprise.

"Spanish? What's that then?" asked Gut.

"Yes, Master Draal, what is 'Span-ish?'" asked Blinky, suspicious look on his face. Draal just cleared his throat and looked away. "Nevermind," he said, thinking back to the voice he had heard in the Forge.

"Well, if the Trollhunter is here, then it's as bad as I thought," said Gut. "We have to make sure we get more gaggletacks. Unfortunately, you see, we're running a bit short on those. Very hard to get."

"But I've got a bag of them right here," said Rot.

"What in the world?" sputtered Gut. He looked at Blinky. "If you'll excuse us for one _moment_ ," Gut said before slamming the door shut. "'Ey, what are you doing? I'm trying to drive up the price over here!"

"I thought we were trying to help them," Rot explained, closing his door as well. The sound of them fighting filtered through the door.

"What did he mean by that?" asked Draal.

"Well, obviously, if someone is talking about gaggletacks, it stands to reason that changelings are the foundation. These voices have been speaking for several weeks, but this is new. We must be careful; if word gets out that there might be changelings in Trollmarket, _panic_ will ensue."

"No, what did he mean 'if' the Trollhunter was here? Wasn't he expecting me?" asked Draal.

Blinky shifted from foot to foot and started to twist his lower set of hands. "Well, you see..." he trailed off and then cleared his throat. "I reasoned that you would want to be aware-"

Suddenly Rot's little door opened. "Stand back please," he said, just before a drawer in the door shot open and a gaggletack flew out. It hit Blinky on the back of the head, and he fell with a shout. "The first one is free," Rot explained, as you could hear Gut mutter "...our hard-earned bits and bobs?"

Draal snorted at Blinky while Aaarrrgghh!! helped him off the ground by his suspenders. Draal started to stalk off while Blinky followed, holding the gaggletack in his upper set of arms.

"Master Draal! _Master Draal!_ Please, let me explain," yelled Blinky as Draal stalked his way to the crystal staircase. Draal turned with a snarl so suddenly that when Blinky stopped Aaarrrgghh!! ran into him. They both wore identical expressions of fear and shock.

" _You lied to me_ ," snapped Draal. "I don't know how else I can say it. I will not answer every call. The only call I will answer is _killing Bular_. I don't care about gnomes. I don't care about rumors of goblins. I don't care about voices."

 _Oh, but maybe you should care about the voices_ , said a voice in Draal's head. It sounded like his Father. _You heard one. It may not have spoken in a language you know, but it was begging for mercy, Draal. And why would a human voice ask for forgiveness from Draal the Deadly?_

Draal snarled at the voice in his head as well as the cowering historian in front of him. Draal was shocked when Aaarrrgghh!! returned the rumble. He looked between the two of them for a moment, a feeling of shame breaking through the anger. He turned his back on the duo and stomped towards the staircase.

* * *

Bular was hiding in the sewer near a gate that opened into the woods. It was currently day time, and if anyone were to find him, he would have to fight or die in the sunlight. The idea both terrified and excited him at the same time, although no one would be able to get him to admit that he feared to fight the Trollhunter. Draal was proving to be more of a problem than he first thought, and the constant hiding was starting to become old.

He paused in sharpening one of his swords on his forearm when he heard a screech. He leaned out as far as he dared to scan the sky. That sounded like a Stalkling.

Now there was an idea, summoning a Stalkling to find and destroy Draal. But no, it didn't make sense. Why summon a creature that could fly in daylight if Draal himself couldn't be out in sunlight?

As if to confirm his thoughts, he heard Stricklander's voice. "Stalklings are as dangerous and unpredictable as they are uncontrollable."

Bular snorted. Hearing the disembodied voices of fleshbags was one thing, but hearing the sound of the impure's voice when Stricklander wasn't even here was too much torture for the Gumm-Gumm. He growled and moved back into the shadows of the sewers as he heard the rumble of distant thunder.

* * *

Draal was searching the woods around the entrance of Trollmarket. He had picked up Bular's scent earlier in the day but had lost it while night fell. It was dangerous being outside while the sun was up, but as long as Bular was using daylight as cover, Draal would have to risk it. He took it as a sign that Bular was scared to face him.

He tried to ignore the pile of rocks in the canal. He would collect his Father's remains soon, he told himself. He would first conquer Bular.

Draal heard thunder, and he glanced at the dark, cloud-filled sky. He could smell the rain coming. He blew air out of his nose forcefully. He was going to lose the scent.

Suddenly he heard screeching mixed in with the thunder. Was that a Stalkling? He knew that there were several living in Trollmarket, ones who had been able to keep their minds free of Gunmar's Decimaar Blade, but they knew better than to fly in this weather.

Draal kept an eye on the black clouds above him. Would Bular summon a Stalkling to try to kill him? He didn't see why. It wouldn't be able to pick Draal up. The only advantage it had was that it could be out in daylight.

The sky erupted with lightning with a simultaneous crack of thunder. Draal heard the shrieking again, this time with a tone of pain and anguish. As the noise died down, Draal strained to hear anything else. Well, whatever it was, it was gone now. He moved back into the trees as the sky opened up.

* * *

Bular walked into the museum. His limp is still there, but he tried not to show it as he joined the three impures and one goblin waiting by the Bridge. "We've been waiting," Stricklander said, but Bular decided to ignore him.

"Are we quite ready?" asked the new impure. What was his name? Auto? Stricklander nodded. "Then let's party," he said with relish in his voice.

Auto knelt by a suitcase, gasping in delight. "The Eyestone!" he said, a blueish glow lighting up the room as he opened the case. "The last piece, it is complete." And he gave a nervose chuckle as the piece started to glow blue and float to join the rest of the Bridge.

There was a slight _thunk_ , and the piece settled into its grove. It stopped glowing, and they all waited. Auto was still giggling nervously, and Bular gave his own laugh of relief and delight, smirking and eyes glowing in the dark. After several moments of dark and quiet, however, his smile died, and he growled. "It doesn't work," he turned to the new impure.

"Bular, patience," said Auto as he closed the case and stood. They all watched in weighted silence. Finally, the Eyestone started to glow, and lines of blue lit up along the reliefs. Stricklander softly gasped beside him, and Bular felt his smile come back as the light expanded and converged under the Bridge. It built and grew until there was a blast of light and air that made them all gasp and threw up their hands to protect their eyes. When they could all see again, there was the outline of the Skullcrasher underneath the Bridge. "Son!" growled Gunmar.

"Father," Bular breathed as the goblin Fragwa ran in terror.

"His voice is so scary," Auto said in child-like joy.

Bular bowed and held out one hand. "Father, your release from exile will soon be at hand-" he started but was interrupted by Stricklander.

"Your dark excellence," Stricklander drawled as he stepped in front of Bular. "I am humbly in your service." He put a hand on his chest as Bular stood and growled. For centuries, he had waited to speak to his Father, and Stricklander dare to _disrupt_ him?

"Killahead is nearly complete, and you soon will be free. The Janus Order will ensure that we obtain the Amulet, and your imprisonment will have ended." Oh no. _No_. Bular could not let the impure disrespect him like this.

"This pleases me, Stricklander," rumbled Gunmar. "You have done well."

Bular felt panic. He could not let his Father think that he could not defeat the Trollhunter by himself. Bular should be the only one to release Gunmar from the Darklands. He shoved Stricklander to the side and addressed his Father.

"Father," Bular started, "The mantle of Trollhunter has fallen to Draal the Deadly. I have spent weeks trying to defeat him in battle. I just need more time-"

"Your father would not have to remain in the Darklands if you had taken the Amelut when Kanjigar had fallen," Stricklander interrupted again. Bular growled at him.

"It is my duty and honor to get the Amelut Father, all I ask is for your patience," Bular said louder.

"Lord Gunmar, let the changelings find a way to release yo-" Stricklander started, and Bular felt his self-control finally snap, and he snarled in frustration at the impure.

" _Enough!_ " rumbled Gunmar as he lifted a hand, blasting everyone in the room with light and air. "You make my exile all the more intolerable for your bickering!"

Gunmar's rage subsided, and he continued in a calmer voice. "Stricklander is correct." The impure shot a smirk at Bular, and he snorted in response. "With the Bridge complete, getting the Amulet is all that matters before the citizens of Trollmarket discover our plans. Stricklander, you will give the orders."

Bular felt his stomach drop as the impure adjusted his lapels in triumph. He had disappointed his Father, and listening to this snake was his punishment. He dreaded what he would have to do on the impure's orders.

"I will speak with my son, alone," growled Gunmar. "Now!" he bellowed when no one moved and lifted his hand to point the impures out of the room. Bular tried to keep his face neutral as the impures turned to leave, all of them smirking at the dressing down he was about to receive. "As you wish, Your Greatness," Stricklander said, giving a small bow before giving Bular a look and turning to leave himself. Bular gave him a snarl and ignored Fragwa as the goblin blew a raspberry from the curtain.

Bular bowed again, trying to show as much humility as possible. "Father, please, I can get the Amulet, if given enough time," he pleaded. He was the Skullcrusher heir; he had to prove himself. The outline of his Father just stood there, and Bular felt fear bloom in his chest.

"You bested Kanjigar in battle, my son, but now maybe the time for the impure's treacherous schemes," Gunmar explained, not unkindly.

"Father, I fear that the impure has grown soft," explained Bular in desperation. "In his human guise, he is a teacher. I think this has made him grown close to the humans. I have seen him around the city with a woman. I believe he has _affection_ for her."

"You question his loyalties?" asked Gunmar.

"I do, Father."

Gunmar paused, thinking. "If his heart has turned, then we will know when it is time for my glorious return," he said. "Now, let me not hear of any more of your failures, my son. I need a strong warrior to stand by my side," he growled, and finally, the light from the Bridge started to die. Gunmar's form slowly faded, but Bular felt that single glowing eye watching him until it was gone entirely.

He stood and snorted in the empty room. He did not want to follow the impure's commands like a typical troll. He would prove himself a worthy warrior if it killed him.

He strode out of the museum; shoulders held high in determination.

* * *

Draal stood in the Forge. The Amulet was in his hand, and he growled as he considered his idea. Finally, he grunted and made his way to the middle of the Forge. When he was sure that he was alone, he stepped on the panel that would activate the Soothscryer.

It rose from the floor in red lights and fog. It was all pointed horns and glowing eyes and sharp teeth, and Draal had to keep himself from backing away from it. When it stopped turning, it opened its mouth, and Draal could see the spikes inside it turning. He gulped and stepped up to it. He considered his arm for a moment. Well, maybe he would be Robarath's customer after all. He closed his eyes and stuck his hand in the mouth of the Soothscryer.

The mouth closed down on his arm, and he fought the urge to yelp and pull away. For several seconds there was the sound of gears moving, but nothing else happened. Draal began to panic and thought about calling for help when the mouth finally let go of him. He fell backward, and the Soothscryer retreated into the floor. 

He laid there for a few moments, feeling ridiculous until three balls of light appeared. They floated in front of him before they started to drift towards the statues of the Felled.

"Wait!" he cried, scrambling up to stand. "I just wish to speak to my Father!"

The lights maintained their ascent, not pausing as he spoke. "I'm sorry! I can wait until you call me to the Void," he continued. "But when will that _be?!_ "

The lights finally came to one of the statues, Unkar, for some odd reason. They went into the figure and disappeared, leaving Draal utterly alone.

Draal fought the urge to roar. Oh, what did he have to do to prove himself a worthy warrior? Did he have to die in battle?

Draal walked out of the Forge; shoulders slumped in defeat.

* * *

Bular sharpened one of his swords on a forearm. Stricklander had ordered that the impure named Nomura would be the one to bring Draal to the museum, and Bular would wait for them in the museum, like a coward. It was maddening. He had broken the order a few times before to try to find Draal and defeat him, but he had not been victorious so far. So now he waited for the impure, stalking the halls like a tiger locked in a cage.

He had started to pass the time by messing with the new night watchman. The wretched creature would sleep for hours on end. Pathetic. Bular would stick as much of his upper body into the office as he could and would poke and prod the guard with a talon. Sometimes the guard would wake enough to look around in annoyance, but so far, he had not come out of the office. Bular was waiting for the day he would, so Bular could eat him like the last one. Even if eating the last one had caused him indigestion for several days.

Bular looked up as Nomura limped into the room that held the Bridge. She also had several scrapes along her hide. Bular smirked at her. "Fail to defeat the Trollhunter once again?" he asked.

"It was never about defeating him," explained Nomura. She stopped in front of him and folded her arms. "It was about getting him to the museum. He will be here tomorrow night. Strickler and I will help you fight him. The only reason he is not here now is he is looking for you in the sewers."

 _The sewers._ Bular could go down there and look for the Trollhunter. Tight spaces, no room to roll. Draal's speed would mean nothing.

Bular flexed a fist. No. No. He would follow orders and wait. Stricklander and Nomura would also be here. Draal would not be able to escape. He would wait one more night, and then his Father would be free.

He scrutinized the changeling in front of him. "Why do you do this, impure?" he asked.

Her nose twitched at the word impure, but otherwise, her face did not change. "For the glory of Gunmar," she replied flatly.

"Bushigal," he said. Her eyes widen slightly. He had eaten changelings for showing smaller signs of disrespect to him and his Father. "I doubt even Strickalnder does all this for the honor of my Father."

Nomura paused to think about his question. "Strickler believes if we prove ourselves, we can be equals in your father's eyes. I just want both trolls and humans to fear me, so my friends and I don't have to live in the shadows anymore." She looked at her talons in a show of feigned indifference. "Humans have a saying that I think works for changelings as well. Better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven."

He nodded sagely and looked at the Bridge. "You did most of the work on the Bridge, did you not?"

Her eyes widen once again. "Yes," she answered slowly.

"I will make certain my Father is aware of your service," he simply said and then went back to sharpening his sword.

* * *

Vedel was in his workshop in the Heartstone when Draal found the leader of Trollmarket. Draal stood for a few minutes, letting the warmth of the Heartstone wash over him. It was such an incredible feeling, of peace and healing and belonging that he tried to appreciate it even now. If Vendel knew he was there, he didn't acknowledge the Trollhunter.

After several minutes Draal cleared his throat. "Vendel," he said. Just trying to get the elder's attention.

"Draal the Deadly, son of Kanjigar the Courageous, Trollhunter," Vendel answered back. He did not stop what he was doing, however, and Draal was left looking at the back of the leader's head.

"Vendel, son of Rundle, son of Kilfred," Draal said dryly.

"Oh, you know of me, Trollhunter," Vendel said in a light tone. "And here I thought you had forgotten all about me once the Amulet called for you. Funny, your father did not suffer amnesia when called to be the Trollhunter." Vendel finally turned to look at Draal with raised eye ridges.

Draal sighed and closed the distance between himself and Vendel. "I have been... distance, I know. But I have been focusing on defeating Bular."

"Oh yes, I know," Vendel responded. "All of Trollmarket has been made aware of your quest of vengeance."

"It's a quest of protection too," argued Draal. "With Bular gone, the surface will be rid of Gumm-Gumms."

Vendel nodded. "True. But I fear that Trollmarket will always have enemies."

"That is why I am here," confessed Draal. He rubbed the back of his neck and shifted from foot to foot. "Do you think we could trust the changelings?"

Vendel looked shocked. " _Trust_ the changelings? Changelings, I'm afraid, mean that Killahead Bridge may be here. Bridge means that the threat of Gunmar's release is over our heads. Bridge means panic." Vendel paused to put a hand to his forehead. "I am only glad that we have a component Trollhunter to protect us," he said, looking at Draal.

"So we can't trust the changelings?" asked Draal, stepping up to Vendel's table.

"We do not know what the Eldritch Queen did to our young to make them the way they are. If some stories are true, they do not have any will of their own besides what their Creator wishes them to do. Even if one of them wishes to go against her orders, we can't be certain that they actually can."

Draal considered his words. "But what would happen if Gunmar never returned? Surely, some of the changelings want that."

Vendel gave him a wary look. "So if they could go against Gunmar's orders, and not help him in escaping the Darklands, you think they would help in the name of... What? Doing the right thing? After the harm that they have done?"

Draal weighed Vendel's words. Maybe he was right. Nomura had tried to get into Trollmarket when they first arrived in Arcadia, all those centuries ago. There was no reason that she should want to change now, as much as Draal wanted her to. He sighed.

"Why do you ask?" asked Vendel, and Draal quickly realized that getting the elder's counsel may not have been the right choice.

"No reason," he lied. "I thought that we might reach out to them as... allies, yes, allies against Bular. But silly me, you can't trust a changeling." He tried to back out of the Heartstone before Vendel could ask any more questions.

"Draal," Vendel said in a voice that left no room to defy it. Draal froze and slowly met the elder's eyes.

Vendel pinned him with a stern look, but it dissolved after a few minutes. "Your father would be proud," he simply said, and Draal felt his jaw drop in shock. "I'm sure he is aware of everything you have done."

Draal nodded numbly and quickly left. He didn't know what his Father would say about Draal speaking with his former changeling lover.

* * *

Draal made his way through the streets of Arcadia carefully, even though night had fallen. He had learned more about the layout of the town in the last few weeks than in the decades since the trolls founded Trollmarket. He knew that there was a theater across the street from the museum that he would have to avoid, but if Draal went around the back of the museum, he could sneak in. He came to a window and looked inside. Nothing but glass cases filled with old human things. No humans in sight.

He ran Daylight's blade between the two window panes until he felt the latch lift. As the window opened, he hoisted himself up and inside. He started moving from room to room, keeping as quiet as he could to make sure he did not miss a sound. He did pass by an office with a human inside, but the man was asleep and snoring. Draal also entered a room with gems and popped a red crystal into his mouth almost as an afterthought. He growled as he chewed. Nothing.

He was about to leave when he caught Nomura's scent outside of a curtain. He readied Daylight and carefully lifted a portion of the curtain. There, in the moonlight streaming from a window in the ceiling, was Nomura on the floor. She wasn't moving.

He quickly went to her and knelt. "Nomura!" he hissed in a whisper. She didn't stir. He checked to make sure she was breathing while scanning the dark corners of the room. It was then that he saw it.

Killahead Bridge.

Oh, he should have told Vendel about this plan. Brought someone with him. Hopefully Aaarrrgghh!!. Even Blinky tied upside down would have been better than no one at all. Blinky could talk Bular to death.

"I wanted to uncover it for you," came a voice behind Draal, and he shot up and pointed Daylight at the curtain. Bular stepped through it, letting it slowly slip off of him as he stepped closer. The first thing Draal saw was Bular's two swords at the ready. The last thing revealed was Bular red eyes glowing. Bular had a look of triumph on his face, and Draal set his face into a scowl. "Isn't it beautiful?" asked Bular as he gazed at the Bridge.

"What did you do to her?" growled Draal. Bular blinked and glanced down at the changeling on the floor, like if he just remembered that she was there.

"Oh, she will live. I think she will wake up in time to see the return of my Father," Bular said softly, keeping that smirk on his face.

"I am the Trollhunter Draal the Deadly, son of Kanjigar, and you will suffer for my Father's death!" Draal snarled.

"Oh, but you have to catch me first, Trolhunter," Bular said with that same sneer on his face.

Bular suddenly charged and brought up his right sword to strike at Nomura. Draal blocked him before he could kill her, only for Bular to lift his left sword for a hit. Draal blocked with his forearm before the sword could hit his neck. Sparks flew as both trolls roared at each other.

Bular reared back and head-butted Draal in the forehead before Draal could get his horns ready to block. He cried out as Bular brought up a leg to kick him. He gasped when Bular leg hit him in the stomach, and he went flying.

Draal recovered as fast as he could, expecting Bular to either kill Nomura while he was down or rush towards Draal. Instead, the Gumm-Gumm was climbing some metal scaffolding to the skylight above.

Draal looked at Nomura but turned to follow Bular instead. She would be safe once Bular was defeated.

Bular crashed through the window, and glass showered Draal as he gave chase. Tiles crunched under their feet as they ran on top of the rooftop. Bular ran to the tower and playfully rang the bell with a sword as he laughed.

"Do you think this is a _game_?" roared Draal as Bular turned to grin at the Trollhunter.

"Oh, you aren't having any fun?" asked Bular as he dropped from the tower to the ground. He used claws to slow his fall.

Draal snarled and followed. Bular started running across the road, and a car almost hit him. The human inside honked the horn in shock, and Bular roared in response and hit the car hood so hard the engine became embedded into the road. Bular continued running, and Draal kept following. What was Bular doing, letting a human see him?

They ran between buildings, Draal trying to ignore the shouts and screams he heard when Bular cut across roads. At one point, Draal came close enough that he tried to hit the Gumm-Gumm with Daylight, only for Bular to dodge, and Draal hit an electrical pole instead. The block of buildings went dark, and Bular laughed at his frustrated growl.

They ran down an alleyway, and Draal gave out a bark of a laugh when he realized that it was a dead end. Bular stopped in front of a metal tank and slowly turned around, but he still had that annoying smile on his face. "Nowhere to run now, murderer," Draal panted.

"You know, I have to give you praise, Trollhunter," Bular said without dropping the smile. Draal started to close the gap between them cautiously. "You are faster than your father. It is that roll you do. I have been trying to find a way to counter it. But I admit, I don't think there is a way to combat it. If only your father could roll, maybe he would still be alive."

"Do not speak of my speak of my Father," warned Draal, but Bular's grin just got bigger, and his eyes flashed.

"Oh, did you want your father to survive our encountor?" Bular continued to back up as Draal advanced. "Or maybe you are pleased he is gone. It was the only way you could become the Trollhunter after all. So he did you a favor when he fell into the sun, like a coward."

Draal felt his heart stop, and suddenly the world became red with his anger. He roared and started to run towards the Gumm-Gumm. At the last second, he rolled up in an attempt to bowl Bular over. Bular waited for them almost to collide, but he leaped onto a fire escape on the side of a building. Draal continued rolling, right into Benoit's natural gas tank.

The world became all light and heat and roaring noise and pain, and Draal went flying. He sailed into the restaurant, the back half of it obliterated when he landed in the dining room in the front. As humans screamed and tried to get away, Bular picked his way through the burning rubble, towards the groaning Trollhunter.

Bular backhanded a human froze in fear in front of him, and when he made it to Draal, he punched the Trollhunter hard in the face. Draal groaned and tried to turn over to crawl away, but Bular stepped on a shoulder to pin him. He reared back and punched Draal again. Bular grabbed one of Draal's horns and waited to see if the Trollhunter would respond. He hit Draal again, just in case. The armor disappeared, and the Amulet fell to the ground. 

He picked up the Amulet and started dragging Draal towards the museum. He casually kicked the front window open, making the human standing outside scatter. Goblins began crawling out of the sewers, laughing and pointing at Draal.

"Tell all the goblins, the time for hiding is over," Bular said to the nearest group of goblins. They cheered and started to run in all directions, some even going after humans. "And the changelings too. Let them have some fun." He evilly smiled as he resumed his march to the museum.

* * *

When he made it to the front doors of the museum, he kicked them down with one foot. Oh, the ability to destroy things without fear of a human finding it. A group of goblins followed, cheering at the destruction. They passed the office with the sleeping human in it, but Bular ignored him. For now. A goblin grabbed his hat to wear it and blew a raspberry at the sleeping figure.

He dropped Draal next to Nomura without a second glance. He lifted the Eyestone so that it floated to its grove in the Bridge. Light and air blasted over Bular, but he barely flinched. His Father's outline appeared with a single glowing eye. "Open the Bridge!" Gunmar roared.

Bular laughed. "It would be my honor, Father," he said with an evil smile. He launched himself into the air and landed on the Bridge.

"For centuries, Father, we have awaited your glorious return," he said. "Tonight, we take back the surface lands." He lifted the Amulet into the air. "Tonight, we feast!"

The goblins cheered as Bular laughed and placed the Amulet in the top of the Bridge. Blue light surged through every groove, and the area beneath the Bridge became brighter than the day. Goblins hissed in pain and covered their eyes.

" _Finally_... after centuries of being in the Darklands..." Gunmar cried out. But before he ould step through, Bular heard a cracking sound.

"Something is wrong," Bular cried out, as he saw fissures started to form along the Bridge. He dropped down and tried to remove the Amulet as he heard his Father yell. "The portal is closing!"

As Bular pulled on the Amulet, a swell of power knocked him off the Bridge. "My son..." he heard his Father bellow.

"Father!"

A clawed hand tried to break free of the portal. "My son, what have you _done?_ "

The Amelut stopped spinning, and the light of the portal died with it. As Bular was plunged into darkness, the Amulet fell to the floor.

Bular sat on the floor, panting. What went wrong? _What went wrong?_ Stricklander said they only needed the Amulet. Oh, the city would burn with Bular's fury for the impure's mistake.

Bular picked up the Amulet, not sure if he should keep it or crush it under his foot. He looked at the inscription along its edge. "Daylight is mine to command..."

He glanced at Draal. Daylight was _his_ to command.

He walked over to the unmoving form of Draal. He grabbed Draal by a horn and started to drag the Trollhunter to the Bridge. When he got them to the top of the Bridge, he put the Amulet in Draal's hand.

"Thank you for returning that," Draal said thickly.

Bular growled, but before he could snatch the Amulet back, the armor appeared, and he had to dodge Daylight. They started fighting on top of the Bridge. Draal was slower, but he was fighting wildly.

Several feet away, Nomura was coming to. She groaned and clutched at her head. Draal noticed her and yelled. "Run Nomura!" Draal tried rolling into a ball to hit Bular, but Bular expected it. He held Draal in place with his left sword as he swung with his right fist. He connected with Draal's head, and Draal fell back to hang over the side of the Bridge.

"Why would she run, Trollhunter? She will bear witness to the return of my father," growled Bular.

Draal was still woozy from the hit, but Bular's word got through the fog in his head, and he felt a rage rise in his chest. "I should have known," he said as he glared at Nomura.

"Sorry, Draal. It's business," she replied.

Bular grinned and grabbed Draal's hand. He forced Draal to grab the Amulet, and with a yell, he ripped it off of Draal's chest. Draal screamed as the armor disappeared. Bular laughed as he slammed Draal's fist into the Bridge, forcing the Amulet into its groove. The Bridge glowed, a vortex opened up under it, and Nomura had to scramble to keep herself from being sucked in.

"Son!" Gunmar's voice bellowed.

"Father!" Bular answered.

Draal tried to elbow Bular in the face, but Bular dodged and punched Draal. He was knocked out cold as a figure started to climb its way out of the vortex.

Bular saw his Father walking into the moonlight for the first in centuries. He seemed taller than what Bular remembered. Bular laughed as his Father looked around and took a deep breath.

"Oh, the air is so fresh. How I have missed it." He looked around and glared at Nomura. "Why is this impure here to greet me and not Stricklander?"

Bular jumped from the Bridge to bow in front of his Father. "Father, Stricklander said he had to go to his office. I believe he was trying to avoid the fight. This impure was the one who built the Bridge and brought the Trollhunter here."

Nomura bowed deeply and laid her swords on the ground before her. "I live to serve, my lord," she simply said.

Gunmar snorted in her direction but smiled at her. "Then it as you said, my son. This world has made Stricklander soft." He rumbled deep in his chest as Gumm-Gumms started to file out of the vortex. "You will be exalted for your service to me, Changeling. Stricklander will not live to see tomorrow."

"My lord," Nomura replied. "It was Stricklander's orders that I was following. He has served you for centuries. I believe he will still serve you for many more."

"We shall see," he growled.

Two Stalklings soared out of the vortex to land on the top of the Bridge like two demented gargoyles. The space was almost full with Gumm-Gumm bodies. There was suddenly a shout, and Bular turned to see the new night guard standing in shock at the curtain. There was a screech, and a Stalkling took flight to chase him out of the museum. Well, there went Bular's snack. But soon, the whole town would be theirs to pillage.

There was a roar from the top of the Bridge, and suddenly the vortex closed as Draal grabbed the Amulet. Two Gumm-Gumm soldiers were cut in half and turned to stone as the doorway to the Darklands closed. "For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!" There was a flash of light, and Draal went into a frenzy. The soldiers pointed their spears at him, but he tore through the ranks with a fury that impressed Bular. Several soldiers were turned to stone by Daylight, some ending up as piles of rocks. Displays of artifacts were torn to pieces in mere seconds. The remaining Stalkling tried to grab him and fly off, but it was made into a statue instead when Daylight went into its side. He even took a swipe at Nomura, but she grabbed her swords and flipped out of his reach. He was brought down, however, when Gunmar punched him in the jaw. Bular pinned him down.

"Trollhunter," Gunmar growled. "How does it feel being the one that allowed Gunmar the Black to escape?"

"You will not win, Gunmar," Draal panted. "Trollmarket will not fall to you."

"Oh, on the contrary, it will," Gunmar said with an evil grin.

"Father, we need him to open the Bridge. We need more soldiers," explained Bular.

Gunmar shooked his head. "We will make new soldiers in Trollmarket. Plus, I have an ally who has sworn her loyalty to me. We don't need the Trollhunter."

Bular smiled. So he was going to kill the last Trollhunter ever to exist? He drew one of his swords and held it high. Draal reached out and roared at Gunmar, but turned to stone when Bular buried his sword in Draal's back.

There was total silence for several moments as no one dare to move or breathe. Gunmar chuckled as the Amulet fell off of Draal to land at his feet. He brought up one foot and crushed it without any comment.

There were sirens outside as police cars came to the museum. The Gumm-Gumms all started and pointed their spears at the noise. Gunmar brought his head up and sniffed at the air. He smiled at the smell of fresh meat in the air.

"Come, son," he said as the Decimaar Blade formed in his hand. "It is time to hunt."

Bular laughed darkly, and the two trolls marched out with their Gumm-Gumm horde behind them.

Outside, police officers piled out of their cars and pointed their guns at the doors. Only to scream in terror at the creatures that were coming out of the museum. They tried to shoot the trolls, but the bullets only harmlessly bounced off. Bular roared and kicked a car so that it flew into the air and landed on two other vehicles. The cops scattered.

Gunmar chuckled as he walked to the cars. One man was trying to help another out of the wreckage. "Brave man," he rumbled as he grabbed the trapped man, and the other one tried to kick his hand away. "But the brave are often the first to die." The trapped man screamed as Gunmar dragged him out of the wreckage, causing large gouges in his legs. Gunmar threw the brave one to Bular.

Gunmar turned to his son and lifted the injured man high. "To the domination of the surface lands," Gunmar toasted, and then father and son shared their first meal in centuries together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [Meg13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meg13/pseuds/Meg13) for the "He had bigger Nyalagroths to roast" line.


	6. Suitor

If you asked Strickler, the whole week had been a cock-up.

Not that anyone was asking him.

Right, Kanjigar was dead. But Bular had lost his nerve and did not even venture to grab the Amulet during the day or contact the Changelings to tell them where it was. So Draal possessed it. Draal the Deadly, son of Kanjigar, a troll who could not only fight but had been preparing his entire life to be the Trollhunter. Nomura's former lover.

And it wasn't like things were going better elsewhere. Otto was in Europe, attempting to get the Eyestone. After centuries, the Janus Order located it in a philanthropist's private collection. Otto had attempted to buy it, but the owner said it was not for sale. Instead of trying to steal the Eyestone after the unsuccessful transaction, Otto then escalated to thinly veiled threats, and now he was complaining of increased security surrounding the last piece of the Bridge. Strickler had spent most of his time between classes carrying a very heated text exchange in German abolishing Otto for his stupidity.

And then, there was Jim. He yelled at Strickler. In class. For no reason. It happened before he knew of Draal and Otto, but somehow that was the worst thing to happen that week by far, although Strickler couldn't tell why.

So, even though it was Thursday evening, he found himself in Arcadia's small cafe, hoping something with sugar and something more substantial would help him get through the next 24 hours. Hell, maybe he would do a pop quiz tomorrow, too. The moans of anguished teenagers usually helped to lift his spirits.

While waiting in the queue, he received another text message from Otto. Now the bloody idiot was complaining about the mercenaries he would have to hire to get the Eyestone. Strickler had to fight the urge to start growling curse words in Trollish. He was typing a reply when he finally made it to the front of the queue.

"The usual, Bossman?" asked the young man behind the counter. "Earl Gray, two lemon wedges, one spoonful of honey, and a teaspoon of orange juice?"

"Friday's order, please," Strickler said, not looking up from the phone's screen.

"Oh, it must be a bad week. Decaf, large vanilla latte, two squirts of almond syrup, extra foam, and a splash of soy milk. Room left for Irish Cream. Coming right up," the young man said. He glanced at the tip jar and back at Strickler, but the older Changeling didn't notice. The young man stuck out his tongue but got started on the order.

Strickler was hopelessly trying to think of the translation of "imbecile" to German when he handed over his credit card and accepted his drink. He was still buried in his phone when he made a swift turn and started to march out of the cafe. He promptly ran into the woman behind him, who was also buried in her cell phone.

Strickler was able to jump back, but his drink fell out of his hand, and he hissed as it hit his shoes. The woman was not so lucky, and she cried out as she became drenched in coffee. "Sorry! I'm so sorry!" she said. Strickler just had to take a moment to pinch the top of his nose and clamp down on his annoyance. The young man came around from behind the counter with rags and started to help the woman clean up.

When he felt the woman trying to clean his shoes, Strickler felt himself snap. "Not like that!" he growled as he leaned down to take the rag from her. She looked up with wide eyes, and Strickler finally got a good look at her. Red hair, teal scrubs, with glasses and blue eyes. Those blue eyes looked familiar. And then he thought to a few months back, at the open house at the school. Jim had been by himself. "Mom's running late," he had explained, looking embarrassed. And she had shown up, but too late for them to be introduced. She appeared the same as she did that night, minus the coffee.

"Mrs..." No, that wasn't right. "Dr. Lake. My apologies."

She looked confused for a second; then she had a spark of recognition. "Mr. Strickler?"

When done saving his shoes, Strickler helped clean the rest of the coffee. He stood up and held a hand out to Dr. Lake to help her up as well.

She tried to brush the coffee on her scrubs with a scowl. "I'm sorry, I think I was standing too close," she apologized again.

"No need to apologize," he said, although he thought it was true. "I confess I am in a bad mood, and it diverted my attention."

She smiled at him and then turned to the barista. "Sorry, Revs, didn't mean to make a mess," she said to him.

"No problem, Dr. L, it's why they pay me the big bucks," he said as he stood too. He then winced. "Well, the small bucks with tips." He went back behind the counter. "The usual? Large iced coffee with mocha and a shot of espresso?"

"Better make it two shots," she confirmed as the young man started to make the drinks. "And let me cover a replacement drink for Mr. Strickler."

The young man waved a hand. "Don't worry about it, Doc."

"Soooo..." she said awkwardly. "I hope everything is ok."

"Excuse me?" he asked perplexed.

"You said you were in a bad mood. I hope it is not anything bad."

"Oh, no, nothing serious." _Just tracking down the remaining piece to a magic bridge that will summon an overlord from another dimension to this one. Oh, that overlord is a troll, by the way._ "Just a dispute with a distant relative."

As if on cue, his phone chirped, and he frowned. The Doctor lightly laughed. "So that is why you're getting Friday's order on Thursday night? Sounded fancy."

"I don't have many indulgences, but that is one of them, yes," he said almost defensively. He accepted the new drink and told a sip. He felt some of the tension leave his face. "What about you, Doctor? Isn't that a lot of caffeine for the evening?"

"Ice coffee is the only thing to get me through an overnight shift," she said. "And I may have to borrow some of that Irish Cream if I end up working tomorrow like I think I will."

He felt himself smile, and while Dr. Lake tried to find her wallet in her purse, he handed his credit card back to the barista. "Hey, I was going to cover that," she protested.

"Well, it's fortunate that we bumped into each other," he said. "Literally," and Dr. Lake shared his smile. The barista handed her drink to her, and she took a sip and hummed. "I need to talk to you about Jim."

"Is something wrong?" she asked as she dropped a five-dollar bill into the tip jar. The young man tipped an invisible hat to her.

"Perhaps," he said. "If I can have a moment of your time?" He took her elbow and guided her to a table outside.

* * *

They were sitting outside, the sun still in the sky but slowly moving down. Strickler sipped at his latte, not yet adding the Irish Cream he brought with him. Barbara sat across from him, a puzzled look on her face. Strickler kept his face neutral, but on the inside, he held a smug grin. _Tell me to stay away from your mother, will you_ , he mentally rubbed in Jim's imaginary face.

"Jim, _my_ Jim, yelled at you," Dr. Lake said after a few minutes. "He _yelled_ at you?" She paused, frowned, and then put a hand to her mouth. "Not that I don't believe you, I just... I can't remember him yelling at anyone, ever. Why would he yell at you of all people?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, you're his favorite teacher. Why such a strong reaction to passing a note to me?" she asked, picking up her coffee. She gave him a worried glance and placed the cup down again. "You don't think he's in serious trouble, do you?"

Strickler felt a pang of guilt. He certainly didn't mean to get Jim in trouble. "Well, I don't think we need to jump to conclusions without firm proof of any wrongdoing. Jim surely wouldn't be the first teenager to have some mood swings. How has he been acting at home?"

"Fine," she said, finally picking up her drink and taking a sip. "Jim's been a little overly affectionate actually. But otherwise doing everything he ordinarily does; cooking, cleaning, playing with Toby." She grimaced. "Do you think it may be a bipolar disorder?"

Strickler gave her a small smile. He was surprised that it was genuine. "I'm not a medical expert," he took a sip of his drink, shocked that he wasn't missing the alcohol, "but since I have been an educator for many years, my professional opinion is simply: Teenageitis."

"And, as the only true medical expert here, I can tell you Teenageitis is not a thing," she joked, smiling back.

He chuckled and then thought back to something she had said. "I'm his favorite teacher?"

"Oh yeah," she said with light dancing in her blue eyes. "It's 'Mr. Strickler said this,' and 'Mr. Strickler said that.'" Her smile died a little. "I just hope this outburst doesn't destroy your relationship with him."

Strickler found himself wondering the same thing, and really, wasn't that revelation unexpected. "Well, I will give you my phone number, as originally intended," he said while getting out a notebook. "I'm still concerned about him sleeping in class. But I can keep an eye out for any other peculiar behavior." He ripped out a sheet of paper with his phone number on it and handed it to her.

"And I will make sure he stops doing so much for me at home," she promised, taking the paper from him. He was taking a long drink from his latte when she gave him a shy glance. "Does this mean I can text you next time I have a free night for a date?"

Strickler had probably had a hot liquid shoot out of his nose _sometime_ in the centuries he had been alive, but he could not recall it hurting this severely. He narrowly missed his tousers as he choked and hacked for several moments. She winced and passed him some napkins. "Sorry, I haven't flirted in awhile. I didn't mean... Are you even single? I didn't see a ring. I mean, if you don't date students' parents, I understand, I just thought..." her sentence died away as she blushed, and oh, wasn't that a good look for her?

"It's quite alright," he said, and then paused to cough some more. "The only edict I have about dating is not courting coworkers," he confessed. "It's a small town; if I didn't date the parents of students, I would never have a chance to bequeath the bachelor life." He never would marry, but she didn't need to know that.

"No coworkers?" she said in a light tone. "But Coach Lawerence is in _such_ great shape."

He had been inspecting his sweater for any wayward coffee and looked at her in surprise. She was sipping her coffee with a devilish grin on her face. Oh, that was an even better look for her. "Please, my dear," he drawled. "If it were any of my coworkers, it would be Señor Uhl."

Her eyes widen, and now it was her turn to choke on a beverage, although not as violently and gracelessly as he did. When she had recovered, she laughed, and he joined her; real, authentic laughter that Strickler hadn't enjoyed in decades. When the laughs died out, Dr. Lake looked at her phone and grimaced. "I have to get to work," she said. "I have to confirm it, but I think my next free night is Tuesday."

"Then, Dr. Lake, I shall keep my schedule accessible," he joked.

"Please, call me Barbara, Mr. Strickler," she said.

"And my friends call me Walt," he said, lazily offering his hand. She gave him hers, probably thinking he was just going to shake hands, but her eyes widen instead when he brought her hand up for a kiss. Oh yes, the blush suited her so well.

Arcurio looked at the two figures separating outside and quirked an eyebrow as he cleaned a mug. "Yeah, I ship that," he said to himself and got back to work.

* * *

_He's sitting in an unfamiliar space. It's light and warm, but the edges are fuzzy, and the details are vague. Someone is moving around, and Strickler registers teal clothing and red hair. There is the sound of a door closing, and the figure nearby calls out._

_" —im, _I'm in _ the kitc—"_

 _So weird, sounds are muffled and fade in and out like the details of the space around him. Another figure is walking up, and for one moment, he can recognize Jim. He looks happy to see Strickler and doesn't wear the scowl that has found a new home on his face. "_ Hello, Jim _," Strickler says. The boy gives a muffled greeting back._

 _"Mr. Strickler _came by to _ congrat—" The first figure is placing a cup in front of Strickler, and he finally sees that it's Barbara. Is this unknown space their home?_

_He's saying more, but he can't hear his own voice. He feels like on the surface, he is saying something pleasant, but it has a double meaning. Barbara is using a red blur to pour something in the cup, and Strickler has a revelation that he doesn't have to worry about poison, that whatever it is, he can drink it with complete confidence. It's a pleasant feeling to have._

_"—u rely you knew _you'd won _ the part of Romeo after yo—" Romeo? As in the play? But Mr. Palchuck has taken that role._

_He's still speaking, and the blur of Barbara is adding something as well when he takes a sip of whatever is in the cup. He nearly gags. Ok, maybe it is poison._

_"Che ss, acting... It's like _you have this entire secret life _ I know nothing about," she says._

 _And Strickler has a thought that is clearer than anything else:_ "Oh yes, he does because he is the bloody Trollhunter!"

* * *

Walt shot up in bed, covered in sweat and breathing hard. It was a dream. Simply a dream. Had he been communicating with the Pale Lady? When was the last time he had conversed with her? Centuries? A millennium? He wasn't sure.

No, it wasn't the Pale Lady. There was the sense that it had been Jim and his mother, Barbara. In their home? And something about the Trollhunter? Walt couldn't be sure, it was a blur and fading quickly.

He checked the time and was shocked to see it was only 3 in the morning. Well, he certainly wasn't going to fall back to sleep now.

He used the early morning as a chance to catch up on paperwork for the Janus Order. Checked the shipments sent to Nomura with what she had received. Graded papers. He wired more money to Otto so he could hire more mercenaries. Otto still complained about hiring humans, but if caught, the Janus Order would be innocent of all wrongdoing and remain secret. He showered, groomed, and dressed. He was eating in the kitchen when he received a text.

"Are we still on for this evening?" it read.

The number didn't come up as someone Walt knew, but then the other shoe dropped, and he realized it was Barbara. He glanced at the clock. 5:30.

"Of course, my evening is free and clear," he texted back.

"Great. 6 at Benoit's? I work today but should get off in time to get home and change," she asked.

"I look forward to it," he answered.

And was a little surprised to mean it. He finished his breakfast and left his apartment with a spring in his step.

* * *

It was between classes when Barbara texted again.

"Sorry, I may have to cancel tonight," she said.

"Oh," he texted back. "Nothing is amiss, I hope."

"The doctor who was supposed to relieve me is running late," she explained. "I will probably be getting off after six and don't want to make you wait for me."

"Nonsense," he texted back. "We will move dinner to 7."

"Are you sure? I'll be wearing scrubs."

"Nothing to fret about," he joked. "Just make sure to splash some coffee on yourself first so I can identify you."

When she sent back a laughing emoji, Walt found himself wondering why he was trying to accommodate this woman. True, dating made him appear "normal" to anyone who would care for such trivial things. But pursuing someone could put a Changeling in danger if they revealed too much. Then Walt's next class started filing in from the hallway, and Jim met him with his new daily scowl. Maybe he would court Dr. Lake for awhile. Just for the ability to rub it in Jim's face later. He gave the class at large a smile that made Jim's frown deepen.

"Alright, everyone, Chapter 6, please. The Achaean War, and how did it play into the demise of Greece." The class groaned, and Walt's smile got bigger.

* * *

It was closer to 7:20 when Barbara finally joined him. He had requested an outside table if that would make her more comfortable. She had bags under her eyes, her hair was a mess, there were some mysterious strains on her right pant leg, but somehow none of that brothered Walt. He stood and pulled her chair out for her and helped her move it back underneath the table. "I didn't know what varietal you like," he explained as he poured her a glass of wine, "so I ordered a pinot noir, the 'heartbreak grape.'"

Barbara hummed as she took a sip and then smiled. "No judgment here. All kinds are welcomed."

"I hope your day concluded decently, even with the delay," he said as their waiter came up.

"Ugh, I wish," she said. She turned to their waiter and smiled. "Steak, please, medium rare."

"The same," Walt said, barely glancing at the young man. "Anything you would like to discuss?"

"Oh, I don't want to bore you. I doubt you would find it interesting," Barbara said, taking a sip of her wine.

He smiled and put his head on his hand, leaning towards her. "Try me," he drawled.

* * *

One hour later, they were finished with their food and had moved on to their second bottle of wine. Doctor and teacher had been swapping stories of stupid patients and parents (Walt surmised that if they revealed names that most of them would be the same people) and were giggling and snorting to the point that other tables had started to glance at them. Let them. Walt was having too much fun to care what they thought.

"Alright, I have a good one," Barbara said after taking a sip of wine. "A man comes in. He fell in his kitchen and needed stitches when he hit his head on the counter. I'm taking his medical history just to make sure nothing else is going on. I ask if he has had any heart attacks. 'Oh yes, I have had about 20 of those!'"

She finished the wine in her glass, and he refilled it without asking. Her eyes got wide. "Oh, you are a horrible influence, Mr. Strickler," she joked.

"The worst," he agreed. "Continue, please."

"20 heart attacks? What doctor are you seeing? Because he couldn't have had that many, his heart would be a dead lump of muscle at that point, and if I can talk to his doctor, I might be able to learn what is going on. 'I'm not seeing a doctor. My wife is a massage therapist. When I have one, she massages my pressure points, and it stops!'"

Walt snorted into his glass. "I have heard of healing hands," he started, but let his voice die off, and Barbara giggled.

"Well I ask what happened when he had a 'heart attack.'" She used air quotes around the phrase. Their waiter came for their plates, and she gave him a smile and a small "thanks." Her smile was full and bright, and Walt couldn't help but smile in turn.

"'Well, I don't remember them. My wife says I fall to the floor, my arms and legs start jerking around. She will massage me for about 10 minutes, and it stops. Then I get sleepy, have a nap and then I'm fine!'" Barbara started rubbing her forehead like she had a headache. "Idiot was having seizures, and they _will_ stop on their own. His wife massaging him had _absolutely_ no effect." Barbara took another sip of her wine. "With the right medication, he stops having them. He was just lucky he didn't have one while driving."

Walt chuckled in amusement. He glanced at his watch. "It's getting late. Do you need a ride home?"

For a moment, her smile faded. "Not having fun, Walt?" she asked. She was turning her glass on the table and bit her lower lip. Walt could tell that he must have hit a sore spot.

"On the contrary, I'm having a wonderful time," he confessed, telling the truth. "I just know you were up before six this morning. It's been a long day; you must be knackered."

She looked at him shyly. "A wonderful time?" she asked.

He placed a hand on his chest and held the other up like he was taking an oath. "A marvelous time."

"Enough to do this again?" she asked, leaning across the table towards him.

"Oh yes," he said, reaching out for her hand. He kissed it and then let their joined hands lie on the table, not letting go. She smiled again, and the tension left her face.

"No, I think I can get myself home," she said. "I told Jim I was going out, but not that I was meeting you. It may be awkward if you drive me home."

"Oh? Are you worried he would have a volatile reaction?"

She hummed. "After last week, I don't want to make things worse for you." She bit her lower lip again and gave him a shy smile. "If things go well, I figure I can invite you for dinner, and we can talk to him together. Jim is an awesome cook."

"I look forward to it," he said, his first lie of the evening. Jim despised him, that much was clear, Walt just didn't know the why. Maybe dating Barbara was a bad idea he wondered to himself until she squeezed his fingers, and suddenly, Jim's ire was the last thing on his mind.

He paid for dinner ("Coffee last week, dinner tonight, a girl can get spoiled, Walt."), and he escorted her to her car. He held her car door for her as she got in. "Thank you, Walt, I had a wonderful time," she said once she turned on the car and rolled down the window.

"The pleasure was all mine," he responded and sent her off with another kiss to the hand. His car was nearby, and he slowly made his way to it with a smile on his face.

"What do you think you are doing, impure?"

It took every ounce of self-control Walt had not to jump and spin towards the deep voice of Bular coming from the alleyway. His smile dropped from his face as he slowly shifted to glare at Bular's glowing eyes that stared at him with contempt. Oh, how he loathed this troll at times.

"Keeping up appearances," he said evenly. "We Changelings have to socialize, or the humans will begin to notice that we are different."

Bular snorted so hard that Walt could feel the hot air ruffle his hair, and he was still standing several feet from the mouth of the alleyway. Bular started moving closer, leaning out to a point where if someone drove down the street, they would unquestionably see the brute. Walter instinctively stepped closer to the troll, as if he could shield the nine-foot creature from being detected. "I think you are getting too comfortable in your fleshbag skin, impure."

Walt hated the fact he had gotten within striking distance of the Gumm-Gumm. "What I do or what I don't do in my free time is none of your concern. I have Changelings working diligently to finish assembling the Bridge. We will uphold our promise to your father," he explained to the black troll through clenched teeth. Walt had thought and let a smirk replace the frown. "Do you need help in obtaining the Amulet? Is that why you are out and about spying on me and not fighting Draal?"

Oh, Bular did not like that if the snarl he gave was was any indication. Walt turned his back on the Gumm-Gumm, some would call it stupid to do so, but Walt knew it would send the right message to Bular: I'm not afraid of you. He sauntered to his car and opened the driver's side door.

"Do your job, Bular; destroy the Trollhunter. It's all you are suited for," he drawled. And he drove away while Bular roared impotently from the alleyway.

* * *

_He's standing by his car, and he can sense the hulking form of Bular behind him. Only, this time, he is not standing in the alleyway, but next to a house. "You shouldn't _be _ here," he growls as low as he can in his human form; Bular growls back at Strickler in a much deeper tone._

 _"—e n't I feeling his _neck snap in _ my hands right now?" Bular says as Strickler walks up to him. "Burning his hut to th—" Bular stands upright and towers over Strickler, and Strickler has to look up to make sure Bular can see the frustration on his face._

_Strickler makes a sound of annoyance. "That certainly wouldn't draw any attention," he says._

_"I could take _the Amulet and _ be done with It," Bular rumbles and turns to the house to look into a bright window._

 _Strickler continues to say something, some lecture he knows that he has tried to drill into the troll's thick skull time and time again, but the sound of his own voice is muffled and distant. Bular snarls at something he says and Strickler finally turns to the window and is shown a crystal clear scene in its frame. Jim is chopping something and adding it to a pot. "—man _Trollhunter. _ This will require finesse, patience."_

 _Bular is responding, but Strickler can't understand what he is saying. He does get the sense that he is trying to defend Jim and his mother. That if Strickler weren't here, the beast would harm them. Anger flares up, and he's gesturing at the troll with an open palm as he states something. Strickler can only catch the last word:_ "Adapt."

 _Bular signs and leans into the window. Everything is still dark and blurry, but the scene inside the kitchen is sharp and clear. Barbara joins Jim and tastes whatever is in the pot. Strickler's anger flares again, and he is shoving the brute away before the humans become aware of them. His last thought is more lucid than anything else._ "Leave them alone, you arsehole."

* * *

Walt woke up at his desk, blinking and rubbing his sore neck. He checked his watch. Almost midnight. Bloody hell. He was no stranger to late nights at the school, but he did not recall a time when he fell asleep at his desk. What had the dream been about this time? Bular, Jim, Barbara, and again, something about the Trollhunter. It was dissolving fast, though, and after he stood up and gathered his things, it dropped from his mind.

He started his way through the school, his shoes clicking on the floor in the dark and silence. Although Walt didn't remember what the dream was about, he wasn't surprised that he had one. Or that he had fallen asleep at all. Between teaching school, helping Nomura with the Bridge, handling Bular, running the Janus Order, and dating Barbara Walt was afraid that he was overextending himself. Something would have to give, and he was troubled to think it may be his new relationship with the good Doctor.

His phone chirped, and he looked at it to see a text from the woman in question.

"Hey Walt, hope you had a good day," it read.

He found himself smiling at the phone like one of his lovestruck students. Well, maybe he could carve time out of his busy agenda for her, after all.

"Once I get physically home with a glass of merlot, I think it will improve," he responded.

He was surprised when his phone started ringing a minute after he placed it back into his pocket. He wasn't surprised that it was Barbara. "Hullo, Barbara," he answered.

"Hey, Walt," she said. "I was kinda hoping you were awake, but I'm surprised you are still up. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I could be asking you the same thing, Doctor," he asked back. He was walking past the gym and paused. Someone had been working on one of the sets for the _Romeo and Juliet_ play. Panels on the back of the stage were having fake white flowers attached to them—lilies by the look of it: purity, virginity, and departing souls going back to a state of innocence. Walt wasn't sure if they were the right flower for a play about underage teenagers falling in love and committing suicide, but who was he to judge? "Don't worry; I'm heading to my humble abode right now."

"Are you doing alright, Walt?" she asked.

The question caught him so off guard that he stopped walking for a moment. When was the last time anyone asked him that question? _Had_ anyone asked him that question before? Walt couldn't honestly recall. "I'm fine darling, why do you ask?"

"Well, school work, volunteering at the museum, that long-distance relative you have to talk to regularly. Now I text you at midnight, and you're not even home. I'm just worried that you are spreading yourself too thin. Are you sure you even want to go out to dinner tomorrow?"

The concern she was showing made Walt feel a warmth spread throughout his chest. "I just fell asleep while grading papers, although I agree that I have been overtaxing myself. I would still prefer to see you tomorrow, though."

"Ok. Just make sure to take care of yourself, Walt," she responded while he let himself out of the building. Fragwa was lounging on his car's hood, and Walt took a swing at him with his briefcase. The goblin cursed at Walt in goblin-speak but got in the driver's seat and started the car. Walt suddenly regretted giving Fragwa the spare key. Walt's phone chirped with another incoming call.

"I'm sorry darling, I have another call, can I put you on hold?" he asked, and then cursed under his breath as his briefcase picked that moment to pop open, spilling papers everywhere.

"Of course," she said, but he was already switching lines. It was Nomura.

"We have a problem," Nomura said without preamble.

"What is it now, Nomura. I barely can control Bular as it is," Strickler said as he tried to gather papers before they blew away. Fragwa, the cretin, just sat in the car and snickered.

"The night guard is asking too many questions. I'm worried that if he goes to the head curator that they will realize I am not restoring a Viking ship like I'm supposed to."

"Sok Fynka," Walt cursed in Trollish. "Alright, I will take care of it." He ended the call without any other word and switched back to the line with Barbara. "My darling, I'm sorry, I have to cancel tomorrow night; there is an emergency at the museum—"

"Say no more." Walt expected Barbara to be upset, but her tone was light. "I will accept a rain check. You're patient with me when I had to reschedule for the last couple of weeks; I can return the favor."

Walt finally sat down in the passenger seat with his briefcase somewhat in order. Fragwa gave him a leer and then turned the car's radio to a station playing romantic music. The goblin sighed and leaned against the steering wheel. He gave Walt a dreamy look and then started making kissing noises. Walt tried to hit the little beast but ended up hitting the car horn instead. "Let me bring you lunch instead," he said, hoping she didn't hear the commotion.

She made a noise, like a groan. "I don't know; it would be better if you took the day off Walt."

"Oh, let me bring you lunch, darling," he drawled, glaring at the goblin.

"Keep calling me darling, and you have a deal."

He blinked. He had been calling Barbara that, hadn't he? "Deal," he said. "Good night... darling."

"Good night Walt." And the line went dead. He sat there, giving the phone a small smile. Suddenly a very familiar song started playing on the radio, and Fragwa turned it up while smirking at Walt.

_I've been really tryin', baby  
Tryin' to hold back this feeling for so long  
And if you feel like I feel, baby  
Then, c'mon, oh, c'mon_

_Let's get it—_

Walt snapped off the radio. "Oh, bugger off," he growled at the laughing goblin.

* * *

Walt waited for Bular in the wing that held the Bridge. He leaned on a large crate, with a smaller opened container next to him. Walt was scrutinizing a piece of the Bridge that had arrived earlier that day. Bular finally showed, trying to hide a limp. Draal was doing a number on the Gumm-Gumm. "You're late," he said without looking up.

Bular just growled and snatched the stone from Walt. Walt smoothly picked up a red apple and started to inspect it, just as he did with the piece. The fruit was a leftover from his lunch with Barbara. He had brought her a basket full of lunch meats, fruit, sparkling water, and some sweets. They had eaten outside and enjoyed the afternoon sun. It seemed to be a million miles away from this dark, foreboding space.

Bular turned to the Bridge, and the part floated into place and joined the rest. It magically sealed itself, and the section glowed blue for a moment as the Changeling and the troll watched.

"Killahead Bridge will soon be complete," Walt said, still holding the apple. Now only a small section was missing from the middle. "Our man from Germany will be arriving with more pieces soon." Once Otto got his act together and stole the Eyestone.

Bular smiled to himself. "And my father will know freedom and glory."

"Yes, he will," Walt said with a smirk. "Once you acquire the Amulet."

Bular rumbled at Walt. Bular knew what he was implying. Walt didn't know why Bular was having so much difficulty defeating Draal, but it was clear Bular was terrified of the new Trollhunter. That was not Walt's concern. Walt needed him to get the Amulet, or to convince Gunmar that the Changelings should get it.

"Hey!" yelled a human voice behind them. Both troll and Changeling turned around to see a guard at the curtain. "What are you doing in here?" The guard gasped and shuddered when he caught sight of monstrous Bular fully in the beam of the flashlight. The flashlight dropped, and the guard started to run. Bular rounded on Walt.

"You called him here?" Bular asked.

"Of course not," Walt said as he lifted the apple with no concern on his face. "I brought you a midnight snack," he drawled as he raised one eyebrow.

Bular growled and dropped to all fours, and started to run after the guard. Walt bit into the apple with a wicked grin on his face.

As Bular roared, the grin died on his face. What if someone else had noticed the Bridge? What if one of his students saw it when he brought them here next week for the field trip? What if Barbara did? The thought of letting Bular loose on someone he knew personally gave Walt pause.

He thoughtfully chewed as the goblins came out of the shadows at the sound of the man being ripped apart. When Bular finished, they would descend on the body like hyenas, and there would be nothing left. Not a hair, not a drop of blood, not a stitch of clothing. It would be like the man disappeared into the night, and as far as anyone would know, that is all the guard did.

The Bridge was almost complete. It was now time to think of Gunmar's return, not in abstract thought, but the substantial possibility that he would be walking the streets of Arcadia soon. Walt could imagine it. It would be chaos as Gumm-Gumms, trolls, goblins, and Changelings took to the streets and fought. Some humans would be collateral damage, and there was no way around that. But some people, people who Walt believed should live, may become targets, and he couldn't allow that.

Walt had to control the chaos.

* * *

The day of the field trip was bright and warm. Walt was so pleased with the Bridge's progress that he decided to treat his students to tacos. There were general cheers and appreciation from them. All except Jim. He made a show of not ordering anything and then eating from a bag lunch when the teenagers retired to the square to eat.

Jim knew.

Walt was not sure how Jim knew, but he was confident that Jim understood Walt was a changeling. The frowns, the bad mood, the glances at Walt's secret key, it all couldn't all be just because Walt was dating the boy's mother. There was more to it, Walt could sense it.

Walt tried to ignore the teen. Unless he made outright accusations or started rumors, there wasn't much Walt could do, or would do. Most of his students were oblivious to what was really going on in Arcadia, so Walt wasn't going to call attention to one of them when they were acting weird.

"It's a creep, not as big as the other ones." Walt heard Mr. Pepperjack say to Mr. Palchuck as they huddled around the smaller teen's phone. "It was outside my house last night. It may still be there." Weird that they would be loitering like this, Walt usually had to make sure the bigger teen didn't bully Mr. Pepperjack.

"Maybe I was wrong about you, Pepperjack," Steve said, an excited look on his face. "Maybe you are onto something."

Walt wandered over and glanced over Steve's shoulder. He felt his stomach drop when he realized what was on the phone's screen: a crushed goblin, no doubt about it. To anyone who didn't know what a goblin was, it was just goo, but Walt recognized it immediately. He leaned over Steve's shoulder and grabbed the phone. "What are you gentlemen looking at?" he asked, trying to sound curious to keep the anger out of his voice.

"Just some... _thing_... that was outside my house last night, Mr. Strickler," Eli explained. The teen seemed nervous but didn't say anything to make Walt think Eli knew what he captured in the photo. Walt started to run his fingers across the screen quickly, acting like he was zooming in to get a better look. But he found the icon to delete the photo instead, and the phone beeped.

"Oops, so terrible with technology these days," Walt said cooly as he passed the phone back to Eli. Eli looked upset but didn't say anything.

"What the heck?! You deleted it," Steve cried, sounding more unsettled than Walt thought he would be.

"It's ok, S-Steve," Eli said while putting a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Probably someone's poor cat." Eli quickly lead Steve away, and Walt watched them trying to keep a light smile on his face. Bloody hell, didn't these fools realize the work Walt went through to keep them out of trouble?

The boys whispered to each other, and Steve handed his phone to the smaller teen at one point. "Tonight Steve, when it's safe," Eli said, throwing a nervous glance in Walt's direction. Walt looked at his nails while he eavesdropped on the two teens, making a mental note to get a Changeling to go clean up the goblin goo before the school let out. "Just... be careful in the dark, ok?"

* * *

_Strickler is leading Nomura through the front doors of the museum. He senses that he is furious with her, but often with the logic of dreams, he is not sure of the why. "What was I to do? _The boy _ turned them on me." She was trying to explain something further, but her voice was fading. Strickler saw that she was limping badly._

 _Strickler's fury makes his response crystal clear:_ "I will see to it that your mess is cleaned up." _He moves the curtain leading to the Bridge aside so she can walk through it first, but she stops short when she catches sight of Bular's hulking form, throwing off sparks as he sharpened a sword on a forearm._

 _"I 'm sorry. _You've _ been compromised." Strickler says, not feeling regretful at all._

 _Bular holds up a sword to Nomura's throat, and she is pleading with him, but Strickler can not understand what she is saying. Part of him is wondering why he would willingly throw a Changeling to Bular, the monster, but his anger drowns it out. Nomura has fouled up; she deserves this._ "The boy _ already knows I'm a Changeling. How long do you think it will take for him to _find out Strickler is— _? "_

 _The boy? Who was she talking about? Jim? Eli? Strickler caps his pen. No matter. "—cross that bridge when we get there... _without you, _" Strickler responses._

_Bular starts to attack Nomura as Strickler watches. They bust open crates, and just as Bular is about to deliver the killing blow, Nomura holds up a Fetch. She's saying something, something Strickler can't quite understand, but he has a feeling its bad because Bular is agreeing with her and holds a sword to Strickler's throat when he tries to intervene._

_"—a se we're ever _one changeling _ short," Bular says as he sheaths his sword. And Strickler should be happy that Nomura is alive, but all he can think is "_You lucky bird, _" as she gives him a smug smile._

* * *

Walt started awake at his desk. Only this time, it was at the Janus Order instead at the school. Oh bollocks, falling asleep at odd times was getting old. And the dreams. They were starting to get even more persistent, even though Walt couldn't recall them when he finally woke up.

Walt paused while rubbing his neck. Maybe there was something wrong, medically speaking? Changelings generally had perfect health; they didn't have to worry about the diseases and ailments humans suffered. He was one of the oldest changelings alive, however. Maybe he was experiencing symptoms of something that came with old age for their kind. Who could he turn to for help, though? He smiled. Lucky for him, he had a doctor-on-call.

"Barbara, darling," he texted on his phone.

"Yes, babe?" she texted back.

He still wasn't sure about that pet name, but maybe he should be happy that she had given him one at all.

"Do you have any plans for this evening?"

* * *

"You know Walt, this wasn't what I had in mind when you invited me over," Barbara said as she shone a light in Walt's eye. He just hummed as she switched sides to check the other eye.

"Because I understand that you probably want to save your co-pay for something else, but when your boyfriend asks to meet at his apartment, you kind of expect it's for something... you know. Romantic."

Walt felt his stomach drop as she checked his pulse at his wrist. "My apologies, darling, if you rather I go to someone else—" he started to say. He just didn't want to risk anyone at the Janus Order finding out that he was seeing a doctor. Some may take it as a sign of weakness.

"I'm kidding, Walt," she said with a smile, and Walt felt himself relax a little. She brought out a stethoscope and put the ear tips in her ears. "I don't mind helping out if you feel like you have an issue. Sweater, please."

He untucked his sweater and let her reach under it to place the bell on his chest. Leaning forward for her brought their faces close together, and he cleared his throat.

"Hush."

"Sorry."

He breathed normally for several moments as she moved the stethoscope around on his chest. "Any blurry vision?"

"No."

"Hallucinations?"

"Nope."

"Losing time?"

"Only when I am with you."

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards, and the blush he loved so much settled on her cheeks, but she didn't respond as she put the stethoscope away. "Well, I don't see signs of narcolepsy or seizures. Your heart seems fine." She leaned away from him, and Walt tried not to feel disappointed. "I can only recommend not driving for a while, make sure you don't have an episode on the road, but other than that, there's not much I can do."

"Thank you for checking," he said while getting up from the couch. "Would you like to go out to dinner? So I can show my appreciation."

"Want to get a pizza instead? I heard there is a new history documentary we can watch on Netflix."

Walt made a face. Ever since Bular had shown up at his apartment unannounced, Walt was reluctant to have Barbara there in case the brute decided to drop in for a social visit again. "I would prefer we go to the restaurant, darling," he said. The diner was out of the question; one of his students could see them.

She smiled, but Walt noticed a hint of sadness in her eyes. He stopped reaching for his jacket and gave her a look. "Is something wrong?"

"No! No, everything is fine," she said. But as someone who lied for a living, she was too transparent for him. He went back to the couch and sat back next to her, placing a hand on her knee.

"Well, it's just... I just asked if you wanted to watch Netflix."

"And?"

"Well, you know. Netflix and chill?"

"Barbara, I'm sorry, I do not see your point."

"Walt, you're a teacher, you have to know what that means," she laughed.

"I know the phrase, yes, but I never asked my students to expand on it."

She laughed louder and brought a hand to her mouth. Walt just crossed his arms and gave her a look, which only made her laugh again. "It means to hang out and have sex, Walt."

"Oh." Oh. _Oh._ "Barbara, I'm sorry, I don't think—"

"It's ok, babe, I understand. You don't want to have sex." She sighed as she stood up and went to where he had hung her purse on the coatrack. She turned around when she noticed he hadn't gotten up from the couch.

"Well," he said, trying to keep his face neutral, "What do the kids say when they want a good snog?"

Her face broke out in a grin. "I'm not sure," she said. She walked back to the couch and sat down.

"Well, I will have to question one of my students on Monday," he said while getting out his phone. "What would you like on your pizza?"

* * *

_Bular is watching the goblins put the Bridge back together. Strickler is confused, because why would they take the Bridge apart, they just got the bloody thing in one piece. But it's a dream; it is not like it actually happened. Bular turns to him, and Strickler starts talking. "I've just confirmed the worst. _Gladysgro _ has been slain."_

 _And really, Strickler doesn't know what he expected, but he feels shocked at Bular's response. "Then the _impure _ served her purpose."_

 _Bular is saying something else, but Strickler can barely hear him over the rage the changeling feels. As Bular turns his back on Strickler, he wants to transform and rip into this monster. Roar and scream and tear and rent, to get one message through his thick skull:_ "We are not things; we matter just as much as any troll, you imbecile!" _But to fight Bular is courting death so he grits his teeth and says: "—vise you to care _for those _ you em—"_

"Care? _I only care to f ind the stones so my father can escape this wretched pri—" And Bular is something else, but it is lost in a flash of anger so pure that Strickler literally bites his tongue._

* * *

Walt woke with a familiar, almost too common, start, sitting up in bed. Breathing heavy with his bedsheets twisted around his legs, he winced when he tasted blood. Walt had bit his tongue in his sleep. He flopped back into bed and sighed. What were these visions that plagued him? So vivid and disturbing when he had him, but vague and nebulous once he woke up.

One thing he did remember from this dream, however, was the frustration with Bular and the troll's disregard of Changeling lives. How could Walt hope to make him see the value of keeping some humans alive? How could he expect to protect his students? His coworkers? Jim?

Barbara?

The clock told him that it was 2 in the morning. Changelings did not need as much sleep as humans, but he knew this schedule was not sustainable. He reached for his phone and checked his messages.

There were two, one message from Otto and one from Barbara. He pondered which one to review first, and opened the one from Otto.

"It is done."

Walt rolled his eyes. So dramatic. "What is done, you nincompoop?" he texted back. He reconsidered and deleted "you nincompoop" and sent his message.

"I have the Eyestone."

Walt's pulse picked up, and he sat back up in bed. Centuries of planning, scheming, stealing, murder, lying, bribing. Dozens of lives. Hundreds of Changelings. Working for this moment. And they did it. They finally did it.

"Do NOT, under any circumstance, let the Eyestone out of your sight," he texted back.

The last thing they needed was Otto losing the last piece of all their hard work.

"I KNOW THAT YOU NINNY," Otto texted back.

Walt glared at his phone.

"And the human mercenaries?" Walt asked.

"Dead." Otto simply said. "They wanted more money. So I killed them. Made sure they don't come after us or report us to the authorities."

Walt winced. If it was money they had wanted, the Order could have spared it. What would money matter in the next weeks after Gunmar was free?

He blinked. Walt was getting sentimental in his old age to fret about the deaths of humans he had never met.

"Let me know what flight you will be on. I will make sure Nomura and Bular are there when the Eyestone is returned to the Bridge," Walt texted him.

And then he switched over to the message from Barbara, lying back on the bed.

"Thank you so much for the flowers you had delivered, Walt; they were beautiful. Now all my coworkers want to meet you. What flowers are they? I was surprised they weren't roses."

Walt smiled at his phone and replied.

"Chrysanthemums. They mean joy and long life. I am happy you enjoyed them."

It was after he sent the message that Walt realized that Barbara would see what time he sent it and worry. She was thoughtful like that, fretting about him when no one else appeared to.

Walt frowned at the ceiling as he acknowledged his feelings. He... cared for this woman. He couldn't deny it, not even to himself. And now he would have to save Barbara from Gunmar and his forces so she and Jim would not become victims of the Gumm-Gumm horde.

He would have to scheme as he had never had before, just a little while longer.

* * *

Finally, the Bridge was finished.

After Gunmar had ordered to speak to his son alone, the Changelings had retreated outside the museum with Fragwa. It was midnight, and not a soul was in sight. Walt needed to conceive of a strategy to seize the Amulet. Bular wasn't able to, so now it was Walt's turn. 

"We can have someone infiltrate Trollmarket, _ja_?" asked Otto. "Make a fake Amulet and switch the two?"

"Too risky. Trollmarket is known to use gaggletacks on trolls they don't know at random," explained Walt. "A fake Amulet is too much work to make with little chance of getting the real one away from Draal unnoticed. Better to get the Amulet when Draal is away from others, to make sure he will not have help."

"If he is anything like his father, he will work alone," offered Nomura.

"Indeed," Walt said, giving her a look. "Maybe Bular can bring him to the museum." He had a brain wave and gave Nomura an evil grin. "Or maybe we can use something else as bait."

Nomura glowered at him. "What do you mean?"

As a new idiot with someone he cared for in life, Walt knew what might help capture another idiot who cared for someone. "He wants to attack Bular for revenge. But maybe we need to use someone else to get his guard down. An old flame. Someone who comes to him for help? Appeal to his sense of duty," Walt explained. Otto just looked at Nomura and giggled. Even Fragwa gave her a leer.

"What are you getting at?" she demanded.

"You approach Draal. Tell him the Bridge is here, in Arcadia, complete. Play the damsel in distress."

"I'm hardly the damsel in distress. What if he tells anyone else about this?"

"You said yourself; he works alone. And really, what if he tells anyone else? It's complete. They can't stop it from being built. They won't know where it is, and we can move it if need be," Walt said. "Look at it this way, Nomura. You can prove your loyalty to Gunmar once and for all."

And if she failed, they would just move to another plan.

"Alright," she said, crossing her arms. "I'll do it."

* * *

Walt was in his office at the Janus Order, a whole packet of papers spread out in front of him. Gladys stood in front of his desk, waiting for him to finish reviewing her report. Walt had given her "Operation Babysitter" after realizing they needed to formulate a plan to protect any humans they deemed essential after Gunmar was released. As far as he could see, she had done an excellent job.

"The police department?"

"Expendable," Gladys said. "They will be the first ones to meet Lord Gunmar and his forces, so they will probably be the first to die. Also, their training will make them dangerous. Not that humans have any chance against trolls."

Pity, Ms. Scott would lose her father. "The city council?"

"Varies from member to member. Councilmen Hammes and Goodwin are known to take bribes from Order agents, so we can probably get them to fall in line with the right leverage. Councilwoman Nuñez is more stubborn; I see her as a troublemaker."

"The Mayor?"

"A pushover and useless. But if people see him falling in line, they should too."

"The school?"

"You are the only Changeling to request that we try to save some humans, but the students can be protected at the school when the invasion starts. Changelings will be instructed to point young students to the high school and to keep the Gumm-Gumms away."

"What about the hospital?"

"Once people start getting hurt, they will go to the hospital. It's probably going to attract the Gumm-Gumms' attention. We may lose the doctor on duty the night that Gunmar is released, but doctors will be crucial in the upcoming weeks. The Order can protect them if needed."

"And who will be the doctor on duty?"

"Dr. Barbara Lake."

Walt tried very hard not to let any emotion saw on his face, but he did feel a muscle twitch in his jaw. "And why is that?"

Gladys blinked. "Well, the Changelings working at the hospital say she gets most of the shifts. There is just more of a chance she will be the one doctor the Gumm-Gumms get."

"Is there any way to make sure Dr. Lake is not there?"

Gladys blinked again but didn't comment. "Well, we don't even know what night Gunmar will be released. But if we can find out when that is, then maybe we can keep her from the hospital." She gave the older Changeling a look. "Why this particular doctor, sir?"

He shook his head. "No matter." No one at the Order knew about his relationship; he needed to keep it that way. "This is wonderful work, Gladys. I'm glad you are alive."

"You're glad I'm what?!" she asked, looking shocked.

Bloody hell, why did he say that? "I mean, I'm glad you are a part of the Order," he said, getting up and leading her to his door.

Gladys sputtered but let herself be lead to the door. "Thank you, sir," she simply said as he closed the door on her. He leaned against the door and sighed. Those blasted dreams again. Now he was confusing things that happened in them with reality.

He growled as he sat back down. They required the Amulet to open the Bridge, and Walt needed to know when the Bridge would be opened so he could protect Barbara. But how?

He started playing with his pen for a few minutes as he tried to come up with a plan. That was when it hit him. The hidden room at the school! Yes, when the Bridge opened, he would transform into Stricklander, find Barbara and Jim, knock them out, and sneak them away until he could prove to Gunmar that some humans should survive. It was brilliant. 

Only, what would happen if Barbara realized Waltolomew Stricklander and Walter Strickler were one and the same?

One thing at a time, old chap. Need to keep her breathing first.

* * *

"Well, it's not like I don't want him to have _fun_ , it's just I don't want him to be having fun with traveling more than 30 miles per hour," Barbara said. Walt made a sound of agreement but continued looking at the TV. Barbara tilted her head to the side and gave him a look. "Of course, the only other thing he wants is to try drugs and get strippers, but I have to leave _something_ for when he turns 18." Barbara expected Walt to at least laugh at her horrible joke or to make a sarcastic response, but all she got was another grunt.

Barbara lifted her hand and lightly knocked on Walt's forehead. He started, blinked, and then finally looked at her. "Walt, are you ok?"

Walt gave another blink, slower this time, looking at the woman who was currently using his chest as a pillow. They were at her house, sharing the tiny couch, with a bottle of cherry wine opened on the coffee table. Walt had come over after Barbara invited him and assured him that Jim was at the Domzalski residence for a sleep-over, and they would be alone all night. The latest episode of a Britsh crime show had ended, and Walt would be hard-pressed to give a summary of its plot. His mind was elsewhere.

"I'm fine, darling, I was just woolgathering," he said. He sighed. "You were saying?"

"I was asking if you think I should let Jim get a Vespa. It's the only thing he wants for his birthday, but they make me nervous. I mean, I could get him a food processor."

Walt snorted at that. "No, let the boy have the moped. It's not like it can go fast enough for him to get hurt. Plus, the food processor won't impress any of the girls at school."

She chewed her bottom lip. "Maybe you're right," Barbara said after some thought. "So, what is making you upset tonight?"

Walt opened his mouth to use some lie: it was school, it was his volunteer work at the museum, it was his "distant relative" Otto, it was the falling asleep at random times, it was the blasted dreams. Oh, sod it. Let him tell the truth for once.

"You know I care for you, right?"

Now it was her turn to blink, and she laughed. Walt felt like she was mocking him until she suddenly moved so she could kiss him. Her lips tasted like cherry wine, and she darted her tongue into his mouth when he moaned. When they parted, they were both a little breathless and both sporting deep blushes. "I certainly hope you care for me. If you don't, then you have been sending some powerful mixed messages."

He smiled but quickly sobered. "I'm worried about you," he confessed.

She tilted her head again. "How so?"

"If something was happening, something... disastrous, I couldn't protect you," he said. "I can't control what may happen to you." He looked away. "And that terrifies me."

Barbara reached up and ran a hand along his cheek. Walt closed his eyes and kissed her palm.

"Oh, Walt," she said. "That's what happens when you love someone. Why do you think I worry about Jim on a Vespa? It's not that I don't trust _him_ , it's just I don't trust the rest of the world."

Walt opened his eyes to stare into blue ones and felt something tighten in his chest.

"Are you worried about an earthquake?" she asked, and Walt felt a lump in his throat. He couldn't be honest with her, not entirely. He nodded instead of saying anything.

"Well, I can tell you, I have worked after an earthquake, and everything is fine. We have drills, so we know what to do. The hospital is earthquake safe. Well, as safe as any building in California can be. "

Walt swallowed and cleared his throat. "Just promise me, if you have to go to the hospital, you will let me know?" Walt asked, holding both of her hands in his.

"I already let you know," she said.

"Just promise me, darling."

She searched his face for a moment. She knew there was more to his request, and if he could, he would tell her what it was. But she slowly nodded. "Alright, if it makes you feel better."

They stayed like that for several moments, until Walt realized that he must be scaring her. He cleared his throat again, released her hands, and tried to wipe all emotion from his face. So much for a romantic evening. Barbara ran her hand up to his cheek again and forced him to look her in the eyes.

"Would you like to call it a night, babe?"

"Oh, I think I have time for one more mystery," he said, trying to keep his tone light.

"Oh? Which one?" she asked, grabbing the TV remote.

"Walter Strickler and the Case of the Randy Doctor," he deadpanned as he reached for his wine glass. He pointedly ignored her and took a sip as she glared at him.

"Oh yeah? Haven't heard of it," she said.

He nodded sagely and tried not to smile. "We can watch it. If we retire to the bedroom."

She started giggling and didn't even stop as he kissed her. After she finished laughing, she got off the couch and reached out to help him up. He accepted the hand and then kissed it once he was vertical.

"Well, you have my interest," she said, smiling, and then she guided him to the bedroom.

* * *

_Strickler was in the Lake household, warm and bright. Barbara sat at the head of the table while he was seated across from Jim. Strickler couldn't tell what the food was, but he could recall that it was, in fact, absolutely delicious. Jim had barely touched it however and wore the scowl that he seemed to reserve just for the Changeling. Strickler was paying him no mind. He and Barbara were sharing a laugh._

_"—said to my coworker, 'I brought you a _midnight snack.' _Too bad f or him, he had indigestion for days." Was he really telling her a story about Bular?_

_Well, that was crude._

_Barbara is laughing, however, and he continues with something else that makes her place a hand on his shoulder, such a display of open trust. They laugh and laugh, but Jim doesn't join them._

_Barbara's phone is buzzing, and she is leaving the table, probably apologizing, but he is shooing her away. "Go, go. I'll try not to bore Jim_ to death _." And Strickler watches her go with his head in his hand, and he snorts._

_Gods, how Strickler loved that woman._

_Jim is asking a question, looking interested, almost smiling, and Strickler is answering. He feels a twinge of annoyance and knows he is talking about Bular. Only one word comes out clear enough for him to understand it:_ "—bullish." _Probably the only adjective he can use for Bular in mixed company._

 _Jim is scoffing and saying something. "—an interesting word. He sounds like a real _monster. _"_

_Strickler's smile falls. "Yes I know."_

_"Y ou know what?"_

_"I know _you know," _Strickler says while cutting his steak. He takes a bite and hums at the taste. It is divine._

_Jim is playing with his knife, but picks it up and also cuts his steak like he is trying to cover up his nervousness. "How much do you know?" Jim asks._

_"You did n't know I knew, but now you know,_ I know _." Strickler has had some pretty loaded conversations in his lifetime, but this is getting convoluted, even for him._

 _Jim is replying, tiring to capture a rogue pea that rolled off his plate, but Strickler can't understand it. He also can't understand his reply expect for the phrase_ "Young Atlas."

 _"Y ou would _kill me _ in front of my mom?" Jim asks._

 _"—de ath might affect _our relationship, _ but I will if I have to."_

_No, kill Jim? Never, not a chance. He cared for Barbara, and she loved her son. He would never take Jim away from her, cause her that much pain._

_They are still talking in pleasant tones, but the polite veneer is starting to thin. "—I'll leave your _head attached _ to your body?" Well, Strickler certainly didn't think Jim had the stones for a line like that. He was impressed._

_Barbara comes into the room, and both teenager and Changeling smile at her. She asks something, and they both respond but go back to glaring at each other when she leaves the room. So much for winning Jim over._

_When Barbara returns, they finished dinner in relative silence, Barbara complaining about some mix up at the hospital. They nearly lick the plates clean; it's so good. "I'm stuffed, I can hardly move," Jim announces, and Strickler says something about cooking and grades. Barbara is saying something about dessert and gathering plates. "—a second. Talk amongst_ yourselves _."_

_Once she was out of the room, they are getting up, chairs scraping on the floor. Strickler grabs his steak knife, and Jim does the same, showing an impressive display of knife skill by letting the knife move between his fingers. Interesting. Strickler would never peg him as a fighter._

_They are circling the table, knives at the ready. Strickler is saying something, mocking Jim. Why would Jim do this? All because Strickler is dating his mother? It made no sense. Jim smirks at something Strickler says, but the scowl is never far from his face. Strickler twirls the knife between his fingers._

_"—d id you know that _Draal _is i n my basement?" asks Jim. And he pounds on the floor twice._

_Draal? The Trollhunter? This dinner is making less sense by the minute. Jim tries to kick the floor again, twice, but nothing happens. This doesn't surprise the dream form of Strickler, and he adds his own tap to the floor. They continue to circle the table, and when Jim glances at the basement door, Strickler moves in to strike._

_Jim is parrying and blocking with his knife better than Strickler ever thought he could. Stickler disarms him, but Jim grabs a fork for defense, much to Strickler's annoyance. He's hissing something into Jim's face, but he catches the very end of it. "I have an _Antramonstrum _ in my office."_

_Now, what does Strickler's office have to do with what is going on in this dinner? And why would he tell Jim? He finally grabs Jim and throws the boy to the floor, but Jim retaliates by grabbing his leg and sending him chin first into the table. He is rubbing his sore chin when he looks up and sees the teen coming at him with a knife._

_Oh, so this boy thinks he can hurt Strickler. This boy thinks he has the upper hand._ "Enough!" _he growls, eyes burning, changing into troll form as he stands, feeling powerful and able to take on anything._

 _Jim gasps, his look of surprise worth all the trouble. "—do you think? _Good look _ for picture day?" Strickler says with a smile._

 _He uses one of his collar knives to knock out the steak knife in Jim's hand, but instead of finishing the fight, Strickler laughs and walks to Jim's backpack and starts searching it. He throws it to the ground, however, and growls at Jim. "Give me the _Amulet."

 _Now, why would Jim have the Amulet? But dream Strickler is rushing Jim and grabbing him by the throat. Why would he do this, Barbara is in the other room, she could walk through that door at any moment. Jim struggles but gives Strickler a look of defiance. "You want the Amulet? _Come and take it."

 _Jim is holding something in his hand._ "For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!"

_There is light, light almost bright enough to hurt, and when Strickler can see again, there is Jim, in the Trollhunter armor._

_And Walt can't believe it; this is the strangest dream yet. A human, as Trollhunter. It's impossible, it's insane, it can't be right._

But what if it is?

* * *

Walt is startled out of sleep, sitting up, gasping. He is sweating, and he attempts to wipe the moisture off of his face. He tries to tell himself the wetness on his cheeks is sweat and not tears.

He gets up and goes to his liquor cabinet. Wine is not strong enough for what he needs. He goes for the bourbon. He nearly fills the glass and then drowns it in one go. He feels a little bit better once the warmth blooms in his stomach.

A human Trollhunter. A _human_ Trollhunter. It is the only thing he remembers from his dream, but he can't eject it out of his mind. It would change everything—a human who is ignorant of the centuries-old war that has warred under their feet—a human who could see his kind as equals and not monsters.

But alas, it's a dream—a disturbingly realistic vision.

That Walt can't remember.

* * *

It was a week later when Walt got a call from Nomura. She had fought with the Trollhunter earlier that week but was still trying to convince him to listen to her.

"It's done."

"You persuaded him to listen?"

"Yeah, he will be at the museum—tomorrow night. We can set the trap then."

Walt's heart soared. Barbara had secured three days off from the hospital. She would be safe as the Dark Lord was released.

"Splendid news Nomura. You will go down in history as the most proficient Changeling ever."

"Easy on the compliments, Strickler. A girl could get a big head." But Walt could hear the smile in her voice.

"Get some rest," Walt said, "You deserve it." Walt ended the call.

Finally, everything was going according to plan.

Walt was controlling the chaos.

* * *

The next night, Walt entered the museum about an hour after sundown, just as he and Nomura agreed. "Tonight is the night," he said happily, changing into his troll form. "You're sure he hasn't told anyone?" he asked.

"Trust me, I know him," she replied, letting an evil grin bloom on her face. "He's stubborn. He works alone."

"Good, then all we do is lay the bait and Gunmar will be free."

"What do you mean by bait?" Nomura asked, her face falling into a frown.

"He meant you, impure," came Bular's deep voice from the shadows. Walt was not surprised to see him; it was just as they planned. Bular stepped out with a wicked grin on his face, sword gleaming almost as bright as his eyes. Nomura growled, and her hands twitched towards her swords. Walt gave her an evil smile.

"Nothing personal, Nomura, just business," he said.

"Yeah, business," she sarcastically answered before making a run for the exit. Bular was anticipating that, however, and grabbed her before she left the wing. The beast punched her, and she went limp.

Bular was dragging her to the front of the Bridge when Walt heard his cell phone chirp. He dug it out of his loincloth to read a message. It was from Barbara.

"Hey Walt, just letting you know that I have to head to the hospital. I hope you have a good night."

He cursed in Trollish, loud enough for Bular to hear. "What is it, impure?"

"I have to go," Walt said. "I have to get something from my office at the school."

"What?" Bular barked. "You must stay here, and help me fight the Trollhunter."

Walt felt his patience snap. He gestured all around him. "Changelings have built the bloody Bridge." He gestured at Nomura's still form. "You have the bait you requested." He pointed at the brute. "If you can't get the Amulet from Draal, maybe your father doesn't belong on the surface!"

Bular roared, but Walt changed into his human form and stalked out of the wing. "Make it work, Bular! I have other things to worry about."

He had to get to his office. The secret room still had too many magical and dangerous artifacts in it for him to store Barbara and Jim in it safely. If he hurried, he could clear it out and have them in it before Gunmar was released.

The plan could still work. Walt would have to make it.

* * *

After an hour of clean-up and organization, the hidden room is stripped of anything that may harm Barbara or Jim while Walt stores them there for safekeeping. It's not cozy, and he realized that they may see it as a prison, but it will be the safest space for humans once Gunmar walks the streets of Arcadia.

"Goodbye, Arcadia Oaks High," Walt joked to himself. "Consider this my resignation." He filled the last box full of magic books and knives and pressed the button to close the secret door. He is watching it ascend to the ceiling when there is a bang behind him.

"Strickler, we need to talk!" shouted a very familiar voice.

"Jim!" Walt yelps as he spun around. "These aren't my normal office hours," he tried to casually say as he gets a better grip on what he is carrying. Well, at least he won't have to track down the boy. "I believe you mean 'Mister' Strickler," he tries to admonish as he placed the box down.

"I _know,_ " Jim almost shouts, walking up to Walt and sticking a finger in his face. "I know your secret. I know everything."

Walt nervously chuckled. "And what would 'everything' entail?" _That I am dating your mother? That I am a Changeling? That I am helping to release a troll warlord onto the surface? Please narrow it down for me, Jim._

"The Killahead Bridge," Jim practically growled.

Walt's stomach dropped. The glares, the bad attitude, the moodiness. He had known that Jim's change in behavior was something more than met the eye, but he had tried to ignore it for Barbara's sake. He attempted to deflect. "Killa-what?" He glanced down as he cleared his throat and saw a knife in the box. Oh no, he couldn't do that.

"I know you're a changeling."

"What?"

Oh, look, he had no other alternative.

He growled, letting his eyes glow, and grabbed the knife and swiped at Jim's throat. Or would have swiped at it if Jim didn't fall back at lightning speed. Walt flipped the knife and grabbed it in his right hand. Jim was fast, but he wouldn't survive this.

He went after Jim, lashing at the boy, but he ducks and dodges with practiced ease. Jim throws some artifacts at Walt, and he lets out a frustrated growl. How is Jim _doing_ this?

"I know you want to release Gunmar," Jim is explaining, hands up in a sign of surrender, as they circle the room, "so changelings will gain the respect they deserve," Jim is still moving and dodging each swing, "but _you're_ wrong."

Walt throws the knife to his other hand and growls. "It doesn't happen that way," Jim said. He doesn't sound like he is pleading, but there is some reproach in the boy's tone. Walt doesn't answer and just rushes the boy.

"You will always be an impure to him," Jim is saying as he grabbed a lamp and shined it in Walt's face. Walt shielded his face, recovered, and swung wildly. Jim jumped into his chair and spun it around to evade, kicking Walt away, and grabbed Walt's pen to reveal the key inside.

"How did you—?" Walt began to ask, but it didn't matter. Jim knew too much; he had to be eliminated, Walt saw that now. He thrust the knife at the boy, and he parried. This was too surreal for Walt. How was Jim, of all people, able to do this?

"How do you _know_ all this?" Walt growled.

"I know it because _I_ was the Trolhunter."

Jim pushed Walt back, and he gasped. How? How did Jim even know what that was?

"I've lived this, but I messed everything up," Jim continued, panting. Walt could only stare at the teen in shock. "And now, I'm stuck in the past, and believe it or not, you and I work together to put an end to Gunmar once and for all."

Jim dropped the pen, and for a second, Walt wants to believe him. But he raced at Jim and pinned him to the desk, knife at the ready to plunge into his throat. And Jim is grimacing, but he glances to his left when something clatters on the desk. 

And Walt looks over too, and it's a chess set that he had been packing up. And something comes to him then. He had thought himself the queen in Gunmar's game, maybe a bishop. Moving with more freedom than the other pieces, seeing the board better than anyone else. Not only playing the game but understanding it, dominating it. But what if he had been a pawn this entire time. He gasped.

He let Jim off of the desk. "A human Trollhunter?" Walt said in wonder. Impossible, insane, it can't be right. "This would change everything."

Jim grimaced and rubbed his throat. "But why on earth would I ally with a Trollhun—" But his question is cut off by the lights flickering, and they both gasp.

"You believe me then," Jim said, less of a question and more of a statement. But then there is an explosion that rocked them both and lit up the night sky.

"It doesn't matter now," Walt said as he saw Jim's defeated face reflected in the window. "I fear it's too late. The invasion has begun."

* * *

Walt and Jim run out to Walt's car, siren's waling in the distance. Walt is still trying to process what Jim said.

"Why do you want to go to the museum?" he asked. "There's nothing but death there." Better they secure Barbara and run from Arcadia.

"That's where the Amulet is," explained Jim. "If it started this, it can undo this."

Jim's phone is talking, and he answered. "Tobes!" he yelled into the phone, opening the car door. Walt could hear some squawking on the other end. "Find Claire, get somewhere safe."

Walt wanted to say that if Tobias was in danger, it was presumably too late. Too late for all of them. Walt heard screaming over the line. "Tobes! Toby!" Jim yelled, but the line went dead.

Walt turned on the car, and the radio came to life. "—I repeat, this is not a prank," the DJ said. "There have been strange animal attacks all over town."

A police car drove down the street, lights flashing. But instead of Arcadia's finest police officers, it is goblins at the wheel, laughing and chattering as the DJ continues. "People are advised to stay indoors—"

There is a crash over the radio. 

Both Walt and Jim turned from the surreal sight of the goblins in the police car to stare at the radio. "On, no. Donny! Shut the— They're coming!" There is the sound of crashes and screams as both occupants of the car put on their safety belts. Walt can taste the bitterness on the back of his tongue. How did he ever think he could control all of this?

"Let's get to that museum," he said, peeling out.

Walt weaved in and out of the right-hand lane, avoiding obstacles as best as he could. He tried to take the most direct route to the museum, but he had to steer clear of overturned cars and ripped up asphalt. He shouted as he narrowly missed a cop car going in the opposite direction. Goblins were ransacking cars. Some of the storefronts were broken into or on fire. Screams came from all directions. Chaos barely even covered what was happening.

"So, if you are from another future, what happens to me?" Walt had to know. Had to know his odds of survival.

Jim looked lost for a moment, but then he startled. "Mom!" He got out his phone and started dialing.

Oh, that was bad. "I'm eaten, aren't I?" Walt cried. "By that savage brute, Bular!" Pale Lady knew that Bular threatened to do it dozens of times, ate dozens of his kin.

The phone buzzed in Jim's hand, and he answered. "Mom! Mom!"

"Jim! Where are you?" Walt can hear her over the phone, the panic in her voice making Walt's chest hurt. He helped with this. 

"Mom, I'm okay! I'm with Mr. Strickler." Jim gasped as they passed a side street where Gumm-Gumms where about to open a car with a screaming person inside. The Bridge was open. Barbara was saying something else but Walt couldn't make it out.

"Mom, you need to get somewhere safe. Lock the wards," said Jim. Walt strained to hear her response but then looked up in shock as helicopter lit up a Gumm-Gumm in the middle of the street. He veered off the road onto the sidewalk as the Gumm-Gumm reached for him.

"I love you to—" Jim was saying when another explosion rocked the car. Jim gasped, calling for Barbara over the phone.

"They've hit the cell towers. We're almost there," yelled Walt, and Jim could only look out the window in numb shock. They had to do this; it could be the only way to save her.

They pulled up to the square in front of the museum, abandoned police cars lighting the night with their strobe lights. Walt grunted when he saw a column of Gumm-Gumm soldiers and slammed on the brakes. Something massive dropped in front of them, and the car barely stopped before hitting it. The gigantic form of Bular panted in front of them.

"Impure," Bular spat. Walt gasped.

"Get outta here! Get outta here!" Jim was yelling, and Walt put the car in reverse and started to retreat, turning his upper body to he could look out the back window.

"You better be right, Trollhunter. There's no—" But Walt can't finish his sentence, because something the size of a bus runs into the driver side of the car and they are knocked out cold.

* * *

_Strickler is standing outside the Lake residence, playing with a ring on his pointer finger. School is in session, but Strickler is not concerned that he is here and not in his classroom. He has more important things to worry about._

_Barbara opens the door, and she is all light and smiles and the clearest thing in this vision. She hugs him and kisses him, and she feels like home. She is saying something, and he can only catch the last part._ _"— missed _you _ so mu—"_

_And he will make the world a better place for his kind. Make it so they can stop hiding in the shadows. And then he can be at peace with the woman he loves._

* * *

Walt regained awareness and groaned. He was upside down and still belted into his seat. Ah yes, now he remembered. The bus that hit his car was Gunmar. The Gumm-Gumm warlord was free and wreaking havoc in Arcadia.

Walt braced himself on the roof of the car and undid the belt. He landed with a thump and a groan. He pulled himself through the busted window, cursing as the glass cut into his skin. He felt the earth tremble under heavy footsteps.

"After all you've done, Stricklander, you would flee in our hour of triumph?" Gunmar rumbled as he walked up to Walt with the Decimaar Blade in his hand.

Walt shook his head and quickly got to his feet. "Gunmar, your Dark Excellence. You are out," Walt said, trying to act surprised. His only hope was to spin this as an oversight. "I so wanted to be there, but..." he groaned in frustration, "I had papers to grade." He could hear Barbara in the back of his mind. _Real smooth, babe. Real smooth._

Bular roared behind him, and he turned to the Gumm-Gumm. "Bular..." Walt started, but Bular was already grabbing a single sword, not even letting him talk. "So that's how it is," Walt growled. Gunmar returned the rumble.

Walt squared his shoulders and called out to Jim. "Go. Get out of here. They want me, not you." If he could distract them, maybe Jim could get away, save his mother, get out alive.

"I can help you fight them," Jim cried, but he was trying to back away without Bular seeing him. 

"It's too late!" Walt cried, changing into troll form with green light and the sound of static. "Get to the museum!" He yelled at the boy, pointing behind him.

Gunmar roared, the sound vibrating in Walt's chest. He returned the noise, maybe not as loud and furious as the troll in front of him, but it conveyed the same message. He flipped unto his underturned car and then leaped away before Bular's sword could cut him in two. Bular sent the car flying, and Jim ran. Walt ran in the opposite direction.

The Gumm-Gumms were hot on his heels, and Walt tried throwing knives back at them, but it had no effect other than making them angrier. Walt dodged a swipe from Gunmar just to be hit by one of Bular's fists. He stumbled but slid under an overturned car to try to get some distance between himself and the trolls.

Gunmar jumped in front of him, and he had to scramble to try to hide under the car again. Bular had grabbed it and lifted it over his head, taking Walt's cover form him. He looked back and forth between the two of them, not wanting to let either one out of his sight. While looking at Gunmar, Bular threw the car.

Walt flattened himself on the ground, crying out as a piece of metal ripped into his back. Gunmar caught the car and tore it in two, roaring in rage. Walt dodged as Gunmar used the car to punch at the ground.

Walt brought out his wings, the force of the transformation making both trolls step back. It was agony to use them, but he started to ascend.

Bular grabbed a leg, and Walt tried to tear at his hand. It was useless, however, because Bular slammed him into the street. He groaned and fought to keep himself awake as Bular grasped a wing. Walt screamed as Bular snapped it into two pieces.

Bular moved back, and Gunmar stepped forward. He lifted Walt into the air, and Walt spat some blood into the warlord's face. Gunmar rumbled at him.

"I hope I make you choke," Walt moaned. Gunmar just gave him an evil smile.

"Why did you do it, impure?" Gunmar asked. "After all that time, why did you turn away from your duty?"

_The taste of coffee, the sound of long laughs, the press of lips on his, the deep blue of her eyes, the late-night calls to check on him, the bad jokes that made him snort. All from the woman he loved._

"You wouldn't understand," Walt said, and the last thing he felt was his ribs breaking in Gunmar's fist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [TwistedMashup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedMashup/pseuds/TwistedMashup) for letting me borrow Revs, their original changeling character. Also a special shout out to [Stories_from_Unicron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stories_from_Unicron/pseuds/Stories_from_Unicron) for Walt's drink orders, featured in [31 Days in the Darklands](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19945390/chapters/47228989), where Revs makes another appearence.


End file.
